


Stay Safe

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Bounty Hunters, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feelings Realization, Forehead Touching, Found Family, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Shanghaied, Sign Language, So much singing, Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, There will be singing, To the surprise of no one, reader has female body parts, this got out of hand, this is going to be fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest indulgence. This tale will run parallel to the show, picking up between episode three [The Sin] and episode four [Sanctuary].Our story begins a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...on Nevarro, to be specific.[x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 125
Kudos: 610





	1. Should Have Known Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a post [https://concussed-to-pieces.tumblr.com/post/616649265535680512/stay-safe-playlist] detailing the playlist for this series (this post contains spoilers for plot points in Stay Safe)! Alternatively, if you would rather just have the playlist without any of the exposition or spoilers I provide, you can find it here [ https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtGKUohVH5zUp6uaQkDTx7T8VNCVjrccq ].  
> Enjoy!

The ship was _filthy_. 

Whoever the pilot was had _clearly_ gone bellying in a mudflat. Dried grime was spattered as far up as the cockpit! You wiped the sweat off your forehead, squinting in the brilliant sunlight. 

She had the potential to shine, you decided, and in your current line of work, that was really what mattered. "I'll get it done." You said aloud. 

"You will? Excellent!" The person hellbent on hiring you pressed a small, yet strangely-weighty bundle of cloth into your hands. "Your payment. The other half will be delivered upon completion." They said, voice muffled through their thick cowling. You waved off their promise, absently giving them the usual ' _the work is its own reward_ ' rigmarole as you made a mental list of what you would need to pick up from your tools. 

A few panels looked dented and carbon-scored underneath all the mud; this puddlejumper had clearly seen some kind of action. Not too surprising, what with the Empire getting upended. Skirmishes were all too common in the brave new world, where the tenuous New Republic sought to bring peace to a galaxy full of warlords and criminals.

In hindsight, you _probably_ should have checked what you were being paid with. You might have saved yourself a lot of trouble.

Instead, you launched yourself headfirst into sweeping the crusted muck off the cockpit shielding and scrubbing as high as you could reach on the grungy fuselage. Clients sometimes got antsy about you traipsing around on top of their fancy vessels with your sturdy boots, so you always did your best to be expedient when brushing off the sand and grime. 

Once the brunt of the outside work had been done, you went and punched in the code you had been given to open the hatch.

Nothing happened.

You pulled your notebook and tiny charcoal stub from your side pouch, running your eyes down the line of old codes from previous jobs. No, that _had_ been correct. How bizarre! What if the owner had changed it and forgotten? 

You grimaced at the keypad. You _hated_ leaving a job half-finished. Maybe you could guess it? It would be a fair bit easier than trying to locate the owner, and you didn't want them returning to find you twiddling your thumbs.

To your surprise, it only took six tries at the combination before the boarding ramp extended with a throaty hiss. Your grin of triumph at your own cleverness was woefully short-lived as the thunder of approaching footsteps alerted you to the fact that you were no longer alone. You went to turn and see who was coming, barely glimpsing the bundle that was your payment flying at your face with purpose. 

_Metal_ , you realized dimly before consciousness deserted you.

…

You awoke to a boot in your ribs and you coughed, gasping for air. The bundle was clutched to your chest tightly. How had you picked it up? The last thing you remembered was getting clobbered with it. Why would your attacker leave you with your payment?

You opened your eyes sluggishly, realizing even in your barely-coherent state that you were in the hold of that ship you had been cleaning. "Wonderful." You groaned. Your whole body felt bruised. This wasn't exactly your first time being Shanghaied, but it definitely was up there on the list of 'experiences that don't bear repeating'.

Now, to find out who owned the boot that had so graciously awoken you from your slumber. You struggled to roll over, still keeping a hand on the heavy bundle. As you moved to stand, however, the cloth that made up the bundle began to unwind. You clumsily fought to catch the edges to no avail, fumbling the whole thing until it ended up dropping to the floor with a resounding _clack!_. Whatever was inside it was clearly metallic, but you already knew that from how sore your face was. 

Any further musing on what it could be took a back seat to the disruptor rifle suddenly inches away from your face. 

"Wait!" You yelped, your hands raised over your head.

The individual in gleaming beskar armor gave no sign that they heard you, the pronged rifle barrel trained between your eyes. You had never seen a Mandalorian so close before, but right now was _hardly_ the time to dwell on the magnanimous rarity of the occasion!

"Oh, oh _please_ wait. I...this is all a huge mistake. Please don't shoot me." They didn't move and you took that as your cue to start trying to get yourself out of this mess. "I've been working this port all cycle, I was hired to clean thi-"

"Not by me, you weren't." A male voice, clipped and irritated but distinctly _human_ even through the doubled-back modulator on that helmet. "Continue."

"I…" You were at a bit of a loss. You had been hoping, albeit vainly, that it was a droid under all the beskar. You _might_ have been able to reason with a droid. "W-Well, I…"

"Five seconds." The rifle clicked loudly and you flinched, closing your eyes. 

"Okay, okayokayokay, I was h-hired. At the port." You rushed to explain, tripping over your words in your haste. "I didn't get a good look at him, he was all wrapped up like everyone else. He showed me this ship and I told him I would absolutely do it. I was p-promised two-part payment, half now and half on completion." 

You swallowed hard, daring to squint open your eyes. The Mandalorian hadn't moved a muscle, that T-shaped visor alone keeping you pinned with its unfriendly glare. 

"Um, I went to open the hatch once I got done with the hull and it, uh, wouldn't open," you stuttered. "Th-The man who hired me gave me the wrong code. So I tried a bunch of different ones."

A heavy sigh issued from the helmet. "Until you got the right one."

"Yes." You pointed down to the analog flight notebook hanging out of your hip pouch. "I've never been good at remembering codes. But the next thing I knew, I was attacked from behind!"

"Karga must have been waiting for you to get the door open." The Mandalorian muttered, lowering his rifle slightly. "Doesn't explain the beskar, though."

"Beskar?" You repeated.

He gestured downward and you followed his hand to the formerly wrapped bundle, now revealed to be a single ingot of beskar. The Imperial crest stamped into it gave you pause, the symbol by itself enough to make you uneasy.

"It was my...p-payment." You suddenly felt tiny. Everything you _had_ heard about Mandalorians pointed towards them being an incredibly stoic and honor-bound society. Their beskar armor was revered, practically _sacred_ ; attempting to remove a Mandalorian's helm by force was akin to asking for death. Who _knew_ where this beskar had even come from?! 

You were in deep trouble.

A breath chuffed out of him and he carefully scooped the metal up off the floor, brushing away a tiny bit of grime. "Not anymore, it's not." He growled, re-wrapping the ingot in the cloth. You bowed your head in acquiescence, startled when two leather-clad fingers tilted your chin back up. "Your nose," He began, his thumb scrubbing at something crusted above your upper lip, "it's bloody."

"I remember getting whacked with that right after I opened the hatch." You grimaced. "Is it bad? It's probably pretty bad." 

"It's not great." Your attention was abruptly drawn to the side when you heard a soft cooing noise. A blaster barrel replaced his fingers under your chin even as you moved. "I wouldn't try anything." He warned.

"I'm not, I'm not." You whispered in reply, your whole body shaking. Gods, he was _fast_. Even with you just shifting on instinct alone, he easily outpaced you. "I heard-"

"I know what you heard." He spat. "As much as I'd love to throw you out the airlock, I'm sure I'd get more for you alive somewhere else."

For the first time, you noticed the sound of the FTL engines humming. _Oh_. He had taken off while you were unconscious. Honestly, you had probably been a nasty shock for him when he came across you all curled up in the cargo bay.

That soft noise caught your ear again, but this time you forced yourself not to move. The Mandalorian exhaled after a moment, taking a step back and holstering his blaster. "What _I_ want to know is," He paused, like he was mentally mulling something over while he weighed the slab of beskar in his palm. "Are you any good with younglings?"

You stared up at his visor blankly. All the _other_ stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, the seedier ones, came rushing to the forefront of your mind, leaving you a little flushed in the face. "I...I'm not too bad? I've got none of my own, b-b-but it's not like I have an issue with them?" Your reply was half a question in and of itself. 

"Good. Your job is to manage the child until I can find someplace to deal with you."

" _'Deal with me'_ ?" You squeaked. "I'd really like to go back to Nevarro, if it's all the same to _you_."

"You _stowed away on my ship_. Inadvertently or not, that's a crime I don't take lightly."

"Wait, b-but--" A reedy cry cut you off and you finally saw what was making all the noise. " _Oh_." You breathed. 

It was definitely a baby. A baby _what_ , you had no clue. But a baby all the same. It was _tiny_ , sporting enormous ears that dwarfed its green body. Huge black eyes shone in the dim light of the hold, and a minute hand with three fingers stretched out towards the Mandalorian from the comfort of its bassinet.

"I trust there won't be any problems?" The beskar-clad man across from you asked, seeming a little bemused by how quiet you had gone.

"What's their name? What do they eat? They're so _small_ , I've never seen anything like it!" You babbled nervously, barely able to fight back the primal urge to pinch their cheeks.

"No name. It'll eat damn near anything. I've seen it eat live mudjumpers whole." The Mandalorian replied shortly. "Doesn't seem to eat regularly, though. Might be boredom motivated." The armored individual waited a beat before speaking again, the strap securing his blaster making a loud _snap_ in the stillness he created, "Anything happens to it, I kill you. Understand?"

"Ab...absolutely." You nodded jerkily, wincing when your neck protested the motion.

"Good." He turned on his heel and pointed towards the alcove off to the side of the ladder. "Refresher is there. You do anything I don't like and you're getting slabbed. Full carbon treatment." He informed you brusquely. "You're not quarry yet. Don't make yourself quarry."

"Got it. Th-Thanks for not vaporizing me on sight. I'm sorry about," You gestured helplessly around you, "all of this."

"An apology from you means nothing to me." He informed you, not unkindly. "I'd rather learn who the person that hired you was, and _why_ they were paying you in Imperial beskar."

"I had no idea what it actually was. I was so excited to get started, I didn't even look at it." You confessed. "For all I knew it could have been a rock."

"You're not particularly bright, are you?"

"I like what I do." You retorted before you could think twice about it. 

He stayed by the ladder for a moment, and then stalked back towards you. You braced yourself, waiting to get blown to smithereens. Instead, he stopped a good two feet away and barked, "hand over your tools."

"M-My--"

"Tools. Any weapons. Drop them." His voice came out as a modulated snarl. " _Now._ " Shakily you undid the heavy buckle at your waist, then struggled out of your shoulder straps and dropped the whole belt on the deck. You hesitated a second, something that he _absolutely_ noticed. "Do I have to _slab_ you or are you going to cooperate?" He inquired.

Your last ounce of bravery went out the hold at his threat and you hurried to unstrap the sheath attached to the inside of your calf under your pants. "Hang on, I just-" You plopped down on the floor, shoving your pants leg up around your knee. " _Shit, c'mon please_." You begged under your breath, tears pricking your eyes while the buckles refused to budge. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm trying-"

"Stop." 

You froze, watching out of your periphery as he crouched in front of you. Gloved hands miles more dexterous than your own made quick work of the sheath buckles. He was close enough for you to see your terrified reflection in his helmet, warped by the contours it bore.

"Breathe." He reminded you. "I haven't slabbed you yet. Don't give me a reason to and you'll be fine."

"Right, right." You choked. 

The blade came loose with one sharp tug and you heard him whistle. " _What_ in the hell is someone like you doing with a knife this mean?" He asked incredulously, testing the heft of the nearly cleaver-sized weapon. 

"I traded some rocks for it." You whispered. 

He huffed out a breath in what _might_ have been an expression of mirth, rising to his full height to give the knife a practice swing. It sang as he ripped it through the air, a testament to his substantial strength. "Not sharp?" He sounded curious.

"It's for crushing." 

He twisted his wrist back and forth, lazily twirling the knife by the handle. "You'd rather maim than kill?"

" _I'm not smart enough to make good use of a sharp blade_ ." You recited the phrase you had heard aimed at you so often in your youth. He paused in his motions with the knife, his helmet visor slowly turning towards you as you continued. "It's too easy to get comfortable with hurting if you have a weapon that doesn't take any thought to use. Like a sharp knife or...or a quick blaster." _Or a disruptor rifle_ , you added mentally.

He dropped back into a crouch in front of you, effortlessly balancing his weight on his heels. You swallowed hard, still unnerved by the proximity of a _real_ , honest-to-gods Mandalorian. You had seen a few of them in your travels, but never up close and you had _certainly_ never spoken with any of them. Their armor alone exuded a certain air that tended to _dissuade_ attempts at conversation.

"Wise words." With a strange amount of care, the armored man replaced your knife in its sheath. "I'll hang onto it for right now. Don't try anything stupid and you _might_ get it back." He muttered. Despite the featureless void of his visor, you got the impression that he was studying you intently. "Take care of the kid." A rag was thrust at your face. "Wash the blood off from under your nose."

…

Honestly, it was a relatively easy gig.

You quickly discovered that the child liked it when you sang, even if it was just nonsense words and babble. You made up a song on the spot about the dewback that jumped over the blue milk moon, sitting on the floor and serenading the giggly being while you cleaned yourself up with the warm rag.

They appeared to be maybe toddler age, just getting to the point where they were learning by putting everything in their mouth. You lost track of how many objects you eased away from them, finally resorting to relocating the hazards into an empty cargo net overhead. 

There was one thing in particular that they seemed to love, a silver ball with a threaded hole in it. They rolled it back and forth on the deck, squealing excitedly when you got involved in their little game of fetch. At least they didn't seem keen on putting it into their mouth, thank the Maker for small favors.

You knew enough time had passed that you _should_ be hungry, but the idea of asking for anything made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The child only ate when they were bored, right? Maybe you ought to adopt the same schedule.

Your mind wandered back to the Mandalorian as you engaged the tyke in a rousing game of peekaboo, their explosive giggles making you smile in spite of your lingering aches and pains. How had someone like him come across this baby? If he was a bounty hunter, as the empty carbonite slab hangers overhead would indicate, _what_ was he doing with such a small child? 

"Well," you said aloud, "it's not as if kids are just convenient things that drop out of the sky when you're ready for them." You clapped your hands and the child mimicked you, bouncing a little. You set into a barely-remembered song from when you yourself had been quite young, " _Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'..._ "

Your father had often sang while he cooked meals, pausing occasionally to throw you a grin. You imagined it must have made your parents' toil-filled days of farming a little more bearable. You vaguely recalled the sound of their voices, but the years between their deaths and the present day stretched long. All you had left now were half-impressions of your mother's fond smile and your father's songs, fleeting and bittersweet. 

You blinked away the memories when you felt the touch of a small hand on your sleeve, looking down at the child. They chirped at you, tilting their head to the side. "Hello, little one." You whispered, noting that their enormous eyes were half-lidded. "Are you sleepy?" They yawned in reply, making you smile slightly. It was almost as if they understood what you were saying! "Alright, let's go to sleep." 

After checking to make sure that they were still dry, you tucked them into their cradle. Then, you tugged the bassinet over behind a stack of crates, proceeding to curl up on the floor in your cloak. You kept one hand draped over the side of the cradle, smiling blearily when you felt tiny fingers take hold of your index. 

You had never had any issues sleeping in an unfamiliar environment and despite your rumbling stomach, tonight was no exception. You were exhausted and sore from the day's events and you were more than ready to put it all behind you.

…

Something was nudging your side. 

You frowned, flailing an arm out of the warm cocoon you had created with your cloak. The back of your hand hit steel, and then your palm landed on what seemed to be a boot upper. "Five minutes." You murmured, patting the leather and trying to recall where you were without opening your eyes. 

"Get up." 

_The ship detail. Getting hit with the beskar._ **_Mandalorian_ ** _. The child-_

You thrashed your legs out of your cloak, suddenly more awake than you had ever been in your life. "Where is the baby?" You asked frantically, "I'm sorry, I-I just-"

"The kid is over there." The Mandalorian jerked his helmet to the side, indicating the cradle. "Still sleeping." He took hold of your elbow, pulling you upright. "Come on."

You straightened out your tunic and followed his silent form up the ladder to the cockpit, your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your cape tightly around you, your shivering having nothing to do with the temperature. Through the clear shielding you glimpsed the sight of tall coniferous trees, gray-green in the light of dawn. How long had you slept for?

He settled into the pilot seat, swiveling it backwards to face you after a moment. "Sit." He gestured behind you to one of the co-pilot chairs.

You did so, trying your hardest to hide how much you were trembling. He wouldn't kill you right now, would he? No, not in the cockpit. There would be blood everywhere-

"Hey!" The Mandalorian barked, gloved fingers waving in front of your eyes. " _Focus_. Are you cold?"

"N-No, not at all." You denied through chattering teeth, your back aching with the strain of holding yourself still. 

"Then why the _hell_ are you shaking?"

"I'm terrified." You admitted bluntly. 

"Oh." He was silent for several moments, letting you panic inwardly. "Well, knock it off." He muttered gruffly. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

"You...you're not?" 

" _No_ ." You went nearly boneless at his exasperated grunt, feeling as though you had just run a marathon. "You're good with the kid. It's been quiet. No one trying to pilfer any of the shiny things I have to fly with, _or_ touching important switches." 

"Glad to be of service." You replied weakly. 

" _Don't_ make me change my mind." He growled, jabbing a finger at your face. "If I find out you were planted on here by the Guild to double cross me, I won't hesitate to blow a hole in your sternum. Do we understand each other, stowaway?" 

"Y-You drive a hard bargain." You squeaked, bunching your fists in your tunic. His hand remained extended and after a moment he impatiently jerked his chin down at it. "Oh!" You tried to subtly wipe your sweaty palm off on your thigh before you accepted the handshake, nodding stiffly. 

"If I double cross you, you can feel free to take your mean little knife and crush my ribcage with it." The Mandalorian rotated his wrist, the movement fluid and nonchalant. "Turn and turn alike." 

"I think you might have an unfair advantage. That knife is no match for beskar." You pointed out, almost delirious with relief. 

"It's not about the tool, it's about how you utilize it." 

Your empty stomach suddenly decided to make itself heard, growling deafeningly loud. You flushed, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

" _Stars_ , was that a Corellian hound?" The bounty hunter tossed a small pouch your way, the bag landing in your lap with a quiet crinkle. "Eat the rest of that. Today, we look for lodging." He ordered.

Your question of whether he would _possibly_ consider returning you to Nevarro died in your throat and you bit your lip, struggling with the seal on the bag.

The jerky-like substance, traditionally made from the tough, bitter pulp of hubba gourds, served to take the hard edge off of your hunger and give your mouth something to do while the Mandalorian did his pre-departure walkthrough.

He halted by the now-full cargo net loaded with the flotsam and jetsam from the floor of the hold and turned to look at you, his head tilted slightly in question. 

"Baby wanted to mouth things, so I had to put them out of reach." You elaborated after swallowing.

" _Little womp rat_ ." The armored man grumbled, sounding strangely fond. The womp rat in question babbled from their crib, their arms outstretched in the universal sign for _pick me up!_ The Mandalorian ignored them, continuing his sweep. 

He finally nodded, appearing satisfied with the state of things. You moved to scoop the child out of their crib, only to get stopped in your tracks by a very familiar knife sheath hitting your chest.

"Weapons on before we leave the ship." The Mandalorian muttered. "Remember our agreement. You can have your tools later if you prove yourself trustworthy." 

You took the knife back, wordlessly strapping the sheath to your calf once more. The weight was an immense comfort and you felt your nervous energy still for a brief moment. "Okay." You breathed, clenching your fists and then shaking out your tense shoulders.

The Mandalorian nodded towards the child. "Let him walk. He needs to use his legs."

While the boarding ramp hydraulics hissed and creaked, you dug around in your side pouch. You didn't have much in the way of _actual_ credits, normally you accepted trades of goods or food. "Here, I...um, for when we get lodging." The seven credits looked pitiful even to your eyes, so you could only imagine what this obviously-successful bounty hunter must think of them. 

He waved you off, one gloved hand closing your fingers securely around the meager fistful. "Save them for a rainy season, stowaway." 

"B-But-"

"We still don't even know whether we will find lodgings here," He reminded you. "Hang onto them." 

"I'm not going to just scab off of you." You protested as he walked down the ramp. "I can work, I know ships inside and out and I can-"

"We can discuss it later." He said over his shoulder, the words muffled by his cape, "once I've decided you're worth the trouble."

You huffed out an annoyed breath, jamming the credits back into your pouch. "Oh of course, wouldn't want to _trouble_ you with bringing me back to fucking Nevarro." You muttered. The child squealed, tugging on your pants leg and pointing towards the forest. "Yeah, we'd better get a move on." You agreed quietly. 

With mindfully-shortened steps, you set off to follow the armored man. At least he was shiny enough to be spotted easily in the sun-dappled forest. 


	2. Tranquil Turmoil

You had to take numerous breaks for the child, the small being clearly not used to this level of ' _forced march through uncertain terrain_ '. "You're going to sleep like a rock tonight, aren't you?" You asked, chuckling when the kid babbled wildly as if to reply. 

Up ahead, you saw the Mandalorian pause once again. "Everything alright?" He called, his hand resting on his blaster.

_It's not like I'm going to run away on you_ , you thought uncharitably, rushing to force a smile. "Short leg syndrome!" You responded loudly, choosing to swing the child onto your shoulders and trot briskly up the path. "He did good, I'd say, but he's getting tuckered out." You continued once you were close enough for the beskar-clad man to hear you without raising your voice. 

He simply nodded, turning and continuing along the well-worn trail. You shifted your attention to the massive trees flanking the path, gawking a bit at the height and lush greenery of it all. Your drifting often brought you to orbital stations or desert planets, so this verdant forest was a rare sight indeed.

"Not used to it?" His voice broke the silence and you glanced at him, a little confused that he was trying to make conversation. He was still staring straight ahead. He must have been watching you out of the corner of that visor.

"Not at all. I'm really familiar with the dust and sand. I mean, these trees are _huge!_ " You exclaimed, humoring him. "Everything looks so alive and...soft, I guess?"

"Foliage alters terrain dramatically. Don't be taken in by how it dulls the edges." He grunted. 

"Yes sir!" You saluted him and he scoffed, waving the motion off. After a few more minutes of walking in silence, you spotted a large structure looming in a clearing to the side of the trail. 

"Be on your guard." Was all the Mandalorian said, tapping his holster. 

It was a settlement of sorts; a series of tents scattered around a towering, ramshackle yurt that appeared to be the central focal point. You did your best to be inconspicuous, but it was an uphill battle when you were walking drag for a Mandalorian in polished beskar. 

Upon entering, you realized that the yurt housed a communal area and drinking establishment. The limited patrons of the bar started whispering to one another once the Mandalorian had stalked by, and you found yourself on the receiving end of more than a few inquisitive looks. 

You surreptitiously tried to mask the bruising on the bridge of your tender nose, pulling the cowl of your cloak up until it was just beneath your eyes. 

The Mandalorian settled down at a table with a clear view of the entrance, his head turning lazily slow to survey the area. The lone hostess, stars bless her, approached with no trepidation whatsoever. Clearly she had seen more than her fair share of strange or unusual characters pass through. 

"What can I get you folks?" She asked, wiping her hands off on the dishrag that hung on her hip.

"Bone broth for the little one." The Mandalorian ordered, then tipped his helmet in your direction. 

You hurried to scan the scrawled menu propped up at the bar while the hostess proudly informed the Mandalorian that she had taken down a grinjer earlier, so there was plenty of broth to be had. Mindful of the limited credits you possessed, you selected a dish made up of local vegetables and started to count out the amount it would cost you.

The Mandalorian exhaled audibly, the noise _almost_ a sigh. "What did I tell you? Save your damn credits." He muttered. Then, slightly louder to the hostess, "get them a good portion of that grinjer meat to go with what they ordered." He slid his own credits across the table, knocking yours out of the way with his elbow. After the hostess had departed to put in the food order, he leaned back once again. "If you don't eat now you'll be sorry later, stowaway."

"I'm sorry." You whispered, staring hard down at the table. You absolutely were _not_ going to cry in public. You refused to humiliate yourself any more than you already had! Gods, you wished you were back on Nevarro. At least there, things were _normal_.

His fingers tapped on the table twice, drawing your attention back to him, but he seemed to just be idly shifting his weight. The child babbled at him from their seat, tiny hands waving animatedly. "Is that so?" The Mandalorian replied, sounding for all the world like he was carrying on a conversation with them. "Very interesting stuff, kid." Under his breath he murmured, "we've got eyes on us, stowaway, and not the usual kind."

You went rigid in your seat, unsure why his words terrified you so much. _Bounty hunters take down all kinds of desperate people, this is regular for a guy like him_. "S-Someone you know?" You stammered.

"No." He answered quietly. Then, "Could be nothing. People who don't know any better stare. Be ready."

The hostess returned with the food that had been ordered (as well as two lurid blue cups of freshly-brewed spotchka, the _luxury!_ ) and after ensuring that the child could drink their broth safely, you fell upon your meal with gusto.

"Slow down, you're going to choke." The Mandalorian admonished you, his tone amused. "No one will take it from you, you know."

"Mm, but-" You chewed and swallowed. "But it's _really_ good."

"Savor the taste, then." He abruptly got to his feet. "Watch the kid. I'll be back in five minutes."

"Oh. Uh, stay safe?" You replied uncertainly, blinking up at him.

He paused, and then shook his head like he was dismissing something. "I'll be back in five minutes." He repeated curtly. 

You watched him depart, pursing your lips before turning your attention back to the child. They whined, taking another noisy slurp of their broth. "We'll give him two minutes." You decided, nodding firmly and starting to wrap up the rest of your meal. "Then, we'll rescue him."

…

"You want some soup?" The Mandalorian offered, flat on his back with his blaster aimed at the head of the dark-haired woman opposite him. She was on her stomach, her own pistol lined up with his shoulder. 

You and the child stood several feet away, the child toting their small bowl of broth and you clutching your two cups of spotchka. You had stumbled upon the tense scene once the allotted minutes had passed, following the noises of what sounded like a scuffle between a few of the outlying tents. Your heart threatened to leave your chest when you finally caught sight of the two rolling around on the ground, struggling and swinging at each other with _purpose_.

The woman sighed heavily, holstering her gun after a moment. The Mandalorian rolled to his feet and extended a hand to her, helping her up off the ground. 

The two of them were _covered_ head to toe in pine needles and detritus from the forest floor, which helped to defang her somewhat as she went on to explain that her name was Carasynthia Dune; she had been a shock trooper and this was her _early_ _retirement_ of sorts. 

You could tell she was former military just from the bold band of tattooing that ran around her bicep, never mind her well-built physique or the confident way she carried herself. The fact that she had gone toe-to-toe with the Mandalorian and somehow emerged relatively unharmed was more than enough to earn your silently-awestruck admiration.

"I knew you were Guild. Figured you had a fob on me, that's why I came at you so hard." She admitted to the Mandalorian by way of apology, nodding her thanks when you offered her the untouched tankard of spotchka. 

The armored man grunted, "I assumed as much." He started brushing himself off, leaving Cara to stand there awkwardly. 

"So, what happened?" She turned to you, tapping her nose. "Get a little too mouthy for the tin can?" The Mandalorian's motions hitched momentarily at Cara's query.

"Mouthy?" You repeated in confusion. 

"Yeah, your nose, it's all…" She traced a circle around her nose, pulling a strange expression.

" _Oh!_ Oh, no. I got hit in the face with beskar. Not his beskar! An ingot of beskar." You floundered, chuckling nervously while you readjusted your cowl to conceal your nose once more. "It was all a big misunderstanding."

"Uh huh." Dune didn't sound convinced in the slightest, her eyes narrowed at you.

"Don't appreciate that insinuation, Dune." The armored man snapped.

"Well, _I_ don't appreciate you muscling in on my turf." She fired back airily. "As fun as this little scuffle was, Mando, unless you want to go another round one of us is gonna' have to leave. And I was here first." With that ironclad logic, she turned on her heel and promptly walked away.

The Mandalorian sighed. "Looks like this planet's taken." He shook another handful of needles out of his cape, grumbling to himself. You moved forward without thinking to sweep a few dead leaves from the thick cowling draped around his neck, your fingers reaching out quickly. 

His hand jerked up, pinning your wrist to his shoulder and bringing you to an abrupt halt. You hadn't even had the time to flinch. "You've...y-you've got some leaves under your chin." You managed to stammer, the realization dawning on you that you could be in _very_ deep trouble. He could snap your wrist like a twig, could do _much_ worse than that.

He didn't let go of your hand for a long moment, leaving you to stare up at the blank void of his visor. You had obviously startled him, but despite that his grip wasn't overly tight. Leather worn smooth grazed over the skin of your wrist, his thumb momentarily pressing down on your palm before he released you and took a step back. "Just...tell me where they are." He muttered gruffly.

Through your concerted efforts of indicating around your own neck and his attempts to mirror locations on himself, he managed to rid his gorget space of all the debris. The child began whimpering and whining during the activity, finally plopping down on the ground.

"You all worn out, little one?" You soothed, hoisting the child up into your arms. They rubbed their eyes, fussing until you bundled them up in your cloak. "Shh, take a nap. Close your eyes. You're safe." You assured them, rocking back and forth slightly.

"We're heading back to the _Crest_. This planet's off-limits." The Mandalorian growled, his words clipped. "I have some repairs that can be managed with what I've got on hand. Leaving Nevarro wasn't kind to my ship."

"Can I help?" You rushed to ask, swallowing hard when he cocked his helmet. "Please, let me help. I can fix things, I'm good at-"

"We'll see." He cut you off, straightening his cuisses. "Can you carry him? I know you managed it all of the way here."

"He's not heavy." You assured him quietly. 

"Let me know if you need a break."

Maybe once you made yourself useful with repairs, he would give a request to return to Nevarro a bit more consideration. With your fingers crossed and your hopes cautious, you trudged along after him back into the woodlands.

...

The Mandalorian sighed for what seemed like the millionth time, sussing out the right spanner to hand up to you. Night had fallen and so the two of you were working by a combination of the landing lights on the _Razor Crest_ and headlamps. 

"This portion is almost rusted through. You're definitely going to need at least one new blade soon." You called, doing your best to coax some patcher over the hole in one of the left engine's anterior rotor fins. "Also might want to clean your bearings more often than normal, what with all the sand." 

"I'll take that under advisory." He replied. "Will it still fly?"

You peered over the side of the fuselage, passing him back the spanner. "I mean, you tell me. You're the one that knows how it behaves." You tapped the roof of the craft and then aimed a finger gun at the armored man. "How do the landing hydraulics look?"

His shoulders drooped. "Not spectacular." He admitted. "Got caught by a ravinak a few jobs back. Didn't get out of it unscathed."

You scooted to the side of the cockpit's viewport, sliding off to land with a thud on the boarding ramp. "I imagine hydraulic fluid is tough to come by on a planet like this." You squinted up at his headlamp, half-blinded.

"You imagine right." The beskar-wearing man heaved a sigh so deep, it sounded like it came from the ground beneath him. "Damn kid, he's lucky he's so cute." He growled. "I'd be well on the way to my next bounty if it wasn't for this."

You tapped your foot while you thought. "Oh! I almost forgot. I…" You fumbled at your side pouch, pulling out the small bundle you had made earlier. "Here, I saved you some food."

"Why?" He inquired bluntly.

"Because you didn't eat and...I mean, you gave me that jerky earlier, and you paid for my food but I couldn't eat all of it, so I wrapped it up and saved it for you to...um...eat?" Your voice faded uncertainly as you struggled to get the words out, hideously sure that you had somehow managed to offend him. _Please, please don't be upset, I just want to go home_.

He held out his hand after a second that lasted an eternity and you quickly passed the food over. "That was very kind of you." He said quietly. "Thank you. I will eat later." His voice sounded slightly strained.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being shocked that he thanked you, nodding and then resuming your hunt through your tools for your hydroline sealant. With a little luck, you might be able to-

"Um, excuse me sir?"

You jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, whirling and being confronted by two bedraggled-looking men. "Can I help you with something?" The Mandalorian asked, his tone utterly flat.

"Um, well, yes actually. Raiders." The first man began warily. 

The other man extended his hand, the small bag cradled in it serving to illustrate their bargaining power. "We have money."

"You think I'm some kind of mercenary?" The Mandalorian asked sharply, his hackles clearly raised.

"Well, you _are_ a Mandalorian, aren't you?" The first man appeared confused, stuttering, "You're wearing Mandalorian armor--um, that _is_ Mandalorian armor, right?"

"It is."

"So you _are_ a Mandalorian! I told him you were! Sir, I've read so much about your, your people--er, tribe?" This man was floundering worse than _you_. Your heart went out to him, watching the Mandalorian's posture stiffen more and more with each word out of his mouth. "If half of what I've read is true, then-"

"We have _money_." The second man reiterated, like he thought the beskar-wearing hunter hadn't heard him the first time.

"'Mandalorian' and 'mercenary' are not synonymous." Oh he was _angry_ , you could feel him biting out his words even through the modulator. But the two men just _stood_ there, looking like kicked puppies until the Mandalorian finally grunted, "how much?"

"It's everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen." The first man said dolefully as the Mandalorian busied himself tinkering with the landing gear.

"Krill. We're krill farmers." The second man clarified.

"We brew spotchka, our whole village chipped in!" 

The Mandalorian paused in his motions, turning and actually _looking_ at the small pouch. "It's not enough." He announced dismissively.

"Are you sure? You don't even know what the job is-!"

"I know that it's not enough. Good luck."

"This is everything we have. We'll give you more after the next harvest!" The second man attempted to wheedle, glancing at you hopefully as if he expected you to help him reason with the armored man. 

You were uncertain of how to inform him without words that it was a lost cause, and your armored companion made his aggravation abundantly clear by activating the hydraulics on the boarding ramp. Steam hissed and billowed outwards, startling the two men into stumbling back a few steps so the ramp wouldn't hit them as it juddered up.

"Come on. Let's head back." The first man said dejectedly, tugging on his friend's sleeve.

The second man started pitching a fuss even as they slowly retreated to their cart, "Took us the whole _day_ to get here. Now we have to ride back, with no protection, to the middle of nowhere." 

You saw the Mandalorian straighten up, turning his head slightly. "Where do you live?" He asked suddenly.

"On a farm. Weren't you listening? We're farmers." The second man answered him a _little_ more petulantly than you would have advised.

"In the middle of nowhere." The Mandalorian persisted.

"Yes?"

"You have lodging."

The first man seemed to catch on to the Mandalorian's train of reasoning, excitedly saying, "Yeah, absolutely!"

"Good." The Mandalorian nodded, and then gestured to you. "Come up and help."

...

After a brief detour to acquire Carasynthia Dune (the Mandalorian playing the dangerous game of tossing the proffered bag of credits at her feet and asking her if she was ready for round two), the cart hummed along on the trail through the woods.

"So...we're basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?" Cara sounded unimpressed.

"They're quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that's a pretty square deal for somebody in your position." The Mandalorian reasoned, "Worst case scenario you tune up your blaster, best case...we're a deterrent."

The two men who had hired the Mandalorian (and shock trooper by extension) didn't seem to be able to believe their good fortune. They introduced themselves as Caben and Stoke respectively, and were more than willing to engage in conversation with you about their circumstances. 

You figured it would be in your best interest to make yourself scarce from the Mandalorian and Cara's strategy meeting, and so you plied the two men with questions about the surrounding woods and their village in general. 

You learned that Caben's past relatives had been the ones to start the krill, ensuring that the village would have a steady livelihood through dispensing either the raw material or finished product of spotchka. They were relatively self-sufficient, the woodlands they tended rich with game and plants alike.

Unfortunately, that same richness seemed to have attracted unwanted attention in the form of these raiders. Klatoonians had been harassing the small village for several cycles, stealing multiple harvests of krill.

"So uh, what do you do?" Stoke asked you curiously during a lull in the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're traveling with a _Mandalorian_. You must be pretty tough if you're running with someone like him." He theorized, studying you in the dim light of their lone lamp.

"Oh! No no, _noooo_. I'm a temporary issue for him, I'm sure. Got tossed into his cargo hold at the last port like so much baggage." You confided with a grimace. "My only saving grace currently is that I can entertain younglings." 

"Well, that's great!" Caben exclaimed, though Stoke looked a little less enthused. "We've got a host of young ones that I'm sure would _love_ to have someone new to play with."

"I've bounced around a lot, so I've picked up a variety of different songs and games." You grinned. "Pretty sure I'll have _something_ in my arsenal to keep your kids out of their hair." You continued, lowering your voice as you indicated at the fearsome duo behind you.

On your lap, the child yawned and snuggled into your cloak, clearly done for the night. You followed soon after, bidding the two men goodnight and curling up against the side of the cart. 

…

The day dawned clear, but with a humidity unfamiliar to one such as yourself. Mist danced in rainbow semi-circles through the tree trunks, the sun slowly burning it off as it rose. 

The child bounced in your arms when you carefully climbed off of the skiff to stretch your legs, easily keeping pace with the slow-moving vehicle. 

"How much further?" You whispered to Caben, doing your best not to disturb the snoring Cara and Stoke. You couldn't tell whether the Mandalorian was also sleeping, but it didn't hurt to be considerate.

"Only a few more minutes. Just over that next ridge." The man replied quietly, pointing ahead at said ridge. 

You propped the baby up on your hip and set off at a brisk walk, your body delighting in the fresh air of the forest. It was so strange, having something aside from the blistering climes of Nevarro or the stale, recycled air of hubs in your lungs. Maybe you had been directionless for too long, maybe...maybe leaving Nevarro was a blessing in disguise. 

As you reached the top of the hill, a little gasp escaped your lips. The whole valley was spread out in front of you, the small village dwarfed by the wetlands that surrounded it. Uniform pools lined the outskirts, obviously the krill fisheries the men had mentioned. Despite the early hour, you spotted several people already moving around. 

The landscape was idyllic, almost achingly so, and _peaceful_. 

Tears sprang to your eyes unbidden and you quickly dashed them away on your shoulder, huffing out a trembling breath. "Well little one, let's see whether your papa can help these people." You mused.

...

Caben hadn't been lying about the younglings. There was a group of eight children that rushed to greet the cart as it arrived, small bodies crowding around you to ogle the tiny being in your arms. Said being didn't appear to mind the attention, waving their little fists in excitement.

The Mandalorian seemed on-edge the instant he moved from the cart. Despite the serenity around him, you could feel tension radiating from his form. He was wound tight and you couldn't understand _why_. Even if raiders had been known to attack the place, right this minute all was calm and tranquil.

That unease was made abundantly clear an hour or so later, while you were being shown your housing for the foreseeable future. One second, he was nodding along to what the lovely young woman (a widow?) was explaining to him about the large hut being a barn previously. The next, he had whipped around to face the doorway, his blaster already drawn.

_Gods_ , he was so fast.

The deadly would-be assailant was none other than the widow's child, the small girl cowering a little beside the door. 

" _Easy_." You hissed, surprised nonetheless when the armored man clumsily shoved his weapon back into the holster. 

Cara moved to the doorway, crouching in front of the child. "Hey squirt. You're pretty quiet, huh? Think you could teach me how to sneak like that?" She asked. The child seemed to recover from their scare quickly, pulling on Cara's arm to haul her away for 'training'. "You _owe_ me, Mando!" The shock trooper yelled back over her shoulder as several other children joined in on the 'lesson'.

"I'm sorry, she's just not used to strangers." The widow apologized uncomfortably, wringing her hands.

Seeing how distraught she was, you impulsively decided to speak up. "No no, don't worry about it. We're just a little tired. Jumpy, you know." You explained, attempting to play it off before the Mandalorian could _sigh_ or say whatever he had in mind. "Some of us are quick on the draw. But not _here_." You muttered the last part under your breath, stressing the final word. 

"I apologize for startling your child." The Mandalorian added stiffly, and you thanked the Maker that he wasn't about to undermine your shaky attempt at diplomacy. 

"She will be fine." The woman assured, giving him a tentative smile and then departing.

"I don't need you to speak for me, stowaway." The armored man snapped once she was (probably) out of earshot.

"I _know_ that, but I wasn't sure what you were going to say and I didn't want you to hurt her feelings." You shot back, "You did kind of, _almost maybe_ , consider putting a slug in her kid." 

"I'm not used to this." The Mandalorian stated bluntly, his honesty shocking you anew. Would the surprises never cease?! "They're respectful but they're not _scared_."

"Isn't it better that way?"

"Scared people keep their distance. Other people want to get close. They want answers." He shook his head, clearing his throat. "I...should probably take Dune so we can start with our reconnaissance." Despite his words he moved at the barest meander to the doorway, where he proceeded to lean nonchalantly for several long minutes as he watched the children drag Dune around. He finally murmured, "I'm probably going to need assistance when I attempt to extract her from the Fou... _younglings_. Think you can run interference?"

You cracked your knuckles and then hoisted the child up onto your hip. "Once I get there, they won't know what hit them." You promised firmly.

...

" _Can you pay, can you pay, calamari flan? Fly my ship as fast as you can!_ " You chanted, your hands clapping out a gentle rhythm as you recited the nursery rhyme. " _Fuel it and park it, Dropship Three, and leave it in the hanger to be flown by me!_ " 

The children around you all sang their own haphazard versions of the song, hands clapping and slapping against each other in almost-unison. It was _incredibly_ entertaining to listen to some of the verses they came up with. In your time spent roaming after the death of your parents, you had heard a _lot_ of different iterations of this rhyme. No matter where you traveled, it seemed that kids always gravitated to you. With them came songs and games and sometimes, _sometimes_ , joy.

In spite of that, you still tried to keep everyone at arms' length. You would always have a new planet or station to breeze off to, a tumbleweed through and through. So you clapped, and you smiled, and when it was time to go, you vanished in the night like a wraith. It was better that way. Let younglings come up with their own conclusions.

The Mandalorian and Cara emerged from the forest on the edge of the village, and the man tilted his head at you to indicate you should join them. 

"Sorry guys, looks like duty calls." You apologized to your giggly, rambunctious audience, getting to your feet and dusting yourself off. You then bowed dramatically at the large-eared baby who had been sitting beside you, extending a hand for them to hold. "By your leave, my lord." The child quickly latched on, toddling in the direction of the Mandalorian.

When you arrived at the barn, however, Cara looked grim. "We've got a big problem." She informed you softly.

"The raiders have an Imp walker." The Mandalorian dropped the bombshell on you without quarter, and you took an unintentional step back. "I don't know how they got it, but I've seen those things in action. No matter _how_ good I and Cara are, it won't be enough." 

"Wh-What are you going to tell them?" You asked once you found your voice again. Even though you knew it was silly, you found yourself nervously scanning the woods surrounding the village. 

"The truth." Cara shrugged. "I'll give 'em their credits back. Hell, maybe we can help them move. They can't stay _here_ , that's the takeaway. Sooner they come to terms with that, the better."

...

The Mandalorian broke the news to the village much like he had broken it to you, consideration thrown to the wayside in favor of expedience. "Bad news. You can't live here anymore." He addressed everyone bluntly from the front steps of the barn.

"Nice bedside manner." Cara grimaced, shifting her weight awkwardly as the villagers began to stir and protest amongst themselves.

"You think you can do better?" The armored man huffed.

"Can't do much worse." The woman snarked under her breath before stepping forward. "I know this is not the news you wanted to hear, but there are no other options." Cara announced clearly and firmly, the former soldier obviously rising to his challenge.

"But you took the job!" One man shouted.

"That was before we knew about the AT-ST." Cara said loudly. 

" _The what?_ "

"The armored walker with two enormous guns that you _knew_ about and didn't tell us!" She snapped, frustration bleeding into her tone. 

Over the building hubbub came the voice of the widow, Omera. "We have nowhere to go." She stated calmly, her child tucked against her side.

"Sure you do. This is a big planet." Cara replied dismissively. "I've seen a lot smaller."

Now emboldened by Omera, several other individuals raised their own voices. "My grandparents seeded these ponds!" Caben informed Cara. 

"It took _generations!_ " Stoke added.

Cara's shoulders slumped. "I understand, I do. But there are only two of us." She said, gesturing at the beskar-clad man. You were _more_ than happy to be left out of this particular equation, your brain still stuck on the fact that somewhere out in those peaceful woods, there was an _actual_ mobile assault tower.

"No there's not, there's...at least twenty here!" Stoke fired back, his arms spread wide to indicate all the people in their village.

"I mean _fighters_. Be realistic!" Cara protested.

"We can _learn!_ " Caben insisted, starting a new wave of murmurs as the villagers began to nod and agree with him. 

Dune heatedly spat, "I've seen that thing take out entire _companies_ of soldiers in a matter of minutes!" 

That only brought a momentary pause to the debate. "We're not leaving." Omera said, her words soft but firm. Resolute.

Cara's voice shook when next she spoke and you got the impression that she wasn't seeing a village spread out in front of her, but a munitions-blasted battlefield. "You _cannot_ fight that thing." 

You hesitantly put a hand on her arm, offering what little support you could. She shot you a grateful look, her smile thin.

The Mandalorian, who until then had remained silent, abruptly spoke up. "Unless we show them how." He cocked his head in your direction, ignoring the incredulous look Cara was sending his way. "Remember all those crates I had you lift?"

...

_Blasters._ A multitude of different makes and models, more than enough to arm half the village. You wondered in the back of your mind why the _hell_ he had brought so many weapons.

Targets were quickly thrown together and anyone who was confident was instructed in the art of long range combat by the Mandalorian, his cape billowing behind him as he walked down the line to adjust foot placement.

Cara took over the melee weapon options, setting the rest of the men and women up to defend themselves with long, sharpened sticks and various other methods. You began to understand how she had gone toe-to-toe with the Mandalorian as you watched her cycle through the steps, every motion impactful and economic.

The two ran drills and you alternated between them, the child residing in a back sling you made out of your cloak. Maybe, _maybe_ you could be useful in this type of situation, you hoped. Maybe you could help keep these kind people safe. 

The Mandalorian pawned a spare vibroblade off on you to replace your dull knife and you quickly adopted the techniques he and Cara showed you. You were constantly mindful to keep your fingers _well_ away from the blade after you lost a chunk of knuckle skin when you tried to show off, the bandage you gained serving as a visual reminder to _be cautious_ , that this was _not_ your old knife.

When the Mandalorian finally nodded in approval at the shot you took, you felt proud enough to burst. When Cara grinned broadly at you after you ran through a defense drill, you could have cried.

The plan of attack was simple, as all plans should be: Topple the AT-ST as quickly as possible, use high barricades to divert the Klatoonians into more strategically viable locations and then pick them off. 

And now, up to your knees in mud, you goaded Caben, Stoke and several other villagers on into competition. Which fishery-pit would be the one to render that walker powerless? Whose shoveling would be triumphant in the long run? Bets were placed as the trap holes grew deeper and the barricades were raised on the edges of the village, fortifying the front line. 

The rain had started during the afternoon and continued on well after dusk, making the work a thousand times muddier than before. Once you were finally done digging you were a filthy, shivering mess. Waving a goodbye to the others, you slogged back to the barn. Your boots were heavy enough to impede your movement, so your progress was admittedly slow.

"Stay at the door." The Mandalorian ordered sharply when you managed to trudge up to the raised porch and start struggling out of your boots. 

You groaned unhappily but obeyed, wondering if he intended for you to stay outside all night so the rain could rinse off the muck.

He came back with a bucket, his cape hanging over his arm instead of his shoulders. "I'll hold this up so you can clean yourself." He muttered after passing you the pail of hot, soapy water. "Dune is already asleep, so this is the best I can do."

"B-B-But what if you g-get wet?" You asked through chattering teeth, already stripping down to your underthings as he threaded one end of the cloak through the woven twigs that composed the barn wall. You were too cold and wet to be overly worried about propriety.

"I'm going to be wet anyways, I have the second watch. I'm not worried." Even from behind the cape, you could hear the rain softly _ping_ off his helmet and pauldrons. "Blanket is just inside the door, left side. Let me know when you're heading in so I can turn." 

You quickly dunked the provided rag into the bucket, scrubbing furiously at the grime on your skin. "W-We think we made them deep enough. We dug a good six extra feet each, I w-would s-s-say." You informed him proudly. 

"Good. That's really good." You could _hear_ the smile in his voice, as strange as that sounded. "Means the walker will have a nine to eleven foot drop, which should be more than enough." He then added, "You've done well."

You flushed hotly despite your freezing body, stammering out, "o-oh, I'm just doing wh-what I have t-to-" 

"No. You could have dropped into a funk and refused to do anything once we left Nevarro, but you...you've been good with the kid. With these people." The bounty hunter paused. "I've been thinking about leaving the kid here," he continued quietly. "Once we get rid of the raiders, this village will be peaceful again. And...and he seems to like it here." He shifted his weight, heralded by the _clank_ of beskar. " _You_ seem to like it here, too."

"I do." You replied honestly. "Nevarro was home for a while. I was used to it. It was normal. But this place…" You trailed off, a little perturbed with how much your heart was aching at the idea of having to leave this behind. 

You had never felt any sort of attachment to a location, always knowing that you wouldn't be there long. Nevarro marked the longest you had stayed in an area, sitting proud at a whopping thirty-two days.

"I won't be able to bring you back to Nevarro." He admitted quietly. "I can't...I can't go back there."

What could have gone down on Nevarro that would make a _Mandalorian_ unable to return? Curiosity burned at you and you opened your mouth to ask the question. 

"What is the name of that song you taught the younglings?" He inquired before you could get the words out. "The one with all the clapping."

"Oh, that's just...i-it's a nursery rhyme. Originally I think it was something about...baking?" You theorized, rinsing the rag. "Everyone has a different version of it, though."

"It reminded me of home." The wistful tone of his voice took you by surprise. "We would...when you have the armor, to keep time you would rap on your neighbor's. We stomp, clap, slap hands, beat the armor...no matter what we do it's loud." After a brief pause, "Do you have other songs like that?"

" _Stomping_ , I'm not so sure about. See, a lot of flotillas and mining platforms have rules structured around excessive noise. Keeping younglings entertained and quiet...now _that_ is the challenge." You informed him, scrubbing roughly at your elbows and knees. "I have a few others with the clapping. Some of them up the complexity of the motions depending on how long you're playing for, though, so maybe you could adapt one of those for your stomping needs?" was your tentative suggestion. 

"Leave your clothes where you dropped them. Omera brought some dry things for you earlier." 

His abrupt shift in topic made your head spin and you panicked momentarily before blurting out, "Maker, please tell me there's pants and not one of their _confusing_ skirts." 

"I didn't _look_ at 'em, stowaway. I just know that she put them with the blankets." The Mandalorian replied testily. "You'll find out soon enough."

Mercifully, the widow had provided a soft, knee-length tunic. Thank the Maker for small favors, you did _not_ want to try and figure out one of their skirts at this hour. Intricate hook-loop closures and trews were _great_ and all, but right now you were exhausted and bed was calling your name.

You slipped the garment over your head, taking a moment to run your fingers along the blanket-stitched hemline. The fabric was dyed a rich teal, a trait shared by most of the apparel in this settlement. One of the krill byproducts was the brilliant blue carapace that gave spotchka its distinct hue. According to Stoke they had to strain nearly half of the unprocessed carapace from the spotchka mix lest it turn unbearably bitter. They then utilized this excess to color their fabrics, bathing the entire village in a myriad of indigoes, teals and cobalts.

The long sleeves of the tunic flopped down over your hands, banishing some of the chill from your body. "Huh. Guess I'm not as tall as Omera." You observed aloud, waving your sleeve-covered hands around to illustrate this incredible fact.

The Mandalorian shook his head at your antics and busied himself tucking his cape back under his pauldrons. "Get some rest, stowaway. As long as nothing happens tonight, tomorrow is when we'll strike. I need you at your best." He said curtly. Then, a little softer, "I need you to keep an eye on the F...younglings." He sounded slightly pained. "They'll need assurance. And if anything happens during the fight, they will need to be defended."

"Of course!" You promised, fisting your hands tightly in your sleeves. "I'll do everything I can to keep them safe. We all will."

Cara raised a sleepy fist of acknowledgment from her own cozy pile of blankets, the soldier mumbling something before rolling over.

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian stated, the black void of his visor boring into you. He seemed to be waiting for something, so you finally bobbed your head in agreement. He then departed without another word, the woven mat over the doorway whispering against the rough-hewn planks of the floor in his wake.

You wondered at the quiet sadness in his voice long after you went to bed, your dreams haunted by glimpses of rain-speckled beskar.


	3. Vibroblade Mettle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

The morning of the long-anticipated fracas broke blessedly clear. 

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and got to your feet, tiptoeing past the still-sleeping shock trooper. 

_ Someone _ had hung your clothes up to dry. A certain cape and flight suit were also slung over the indoor line, and beskar armor was laid out in uniform rows on a blanket off to the side. 

Your eyes fell on the form that was currently propped up beside the door, his arms crossed and the chin of his helm resting on his chest. All he wore at this point was a thin liner shirt and compression leggings; for  _ some _ reason he had kept his gloves and boots on. Again, you were uncertain if he was  _ actually _ sleeping, or simply being very still. You chose to err on the side of caution and carefully,  _ so _ carefully, you crept to where your clothes hung. 

They were still a little damp, but you could definitely put them back on. The mud was gone as well. Rinsed out with the rain, no doubt. 

Risking another glance at the downright  _ underdressed _ Mandalorian (he hadn't stirred), you yanked your threadbare intimates off the line and quickly shimmied back into them under the cover of your loaned tunic. Moving as swiftly as possible, you hauled up your pants and then jerked the oversized tunic over your head to trade it out with your own. There was a heart-stopping moment where your elbow got caught in the tunic's shoulder before you managed to free yourself without any excessive noise, stumbling slightly.

The whole process took maybe three harried minutes, but when you looked over to the doorway again you noticed with a jolt of horror that the Mandalorian's head was now tipped against his shoulder slightly, as if to turn it away from where you were standing.

"Sorry." You whispered, feeling silly for worrying when you received no reply. Your hands neatly folded the borrowed tunic and you tucked it under your arm as you heard the child wake up. "Good morning, sweetheart." You murmured to them, tracing a finger over one of their oversized ears while they yawned and rubbed their eyes. "Let's get some breakfast and leave these two to rest a little more. Big doings today. Need to be at our best."

The baby wriggled in their bassinet, tiny hands clasping at your tunic when you lifted them up. 

You turned to depart, but paused by the door curtain. "Hey, say goodbye to your papa." You urged them softly, freeing up one of their hands to flap it enthusiastically at the slumbering man on the floor. The baby giggled, clearly enjoying this new game. "He's working really hard, so we have to work hard too, okay?" You informed the child gravely, beeping their nose afterwards. "Can't be whining about Nevarro. We've got to be strong."

...

The Mandalorian took the child off your hands shortly after he emerged fully-armored from the barn. He didn't actually  _ say _ anything, he just extended his arms and you got the gist. 

You watched him walk away, gloved fingers gesturing animatedly at the baby. It was as if they were having a conversation without words, the baby offering him contemplative noises in response to his motions. 

Winta, Omera's child, tugged on your sleeve. "Mama asked me to come and get you. She said you have a really important job tonight so she wants to make sure you're okay." The child relayed.

"Lead the way, kiddo." You replied, your brow furrowing in confusion. What could Omera possibly want with you?

After her child brought you to her, Omera sent the young girl on her way and then indicated for you to sit on the porch alongside her. You were silent for several minutes while the woman patched a hole in one of their sieve baskets, unsure if she needed the time to gather her thoughts.

"Winta's father, my husband, was a strong man." Omera murmured, her brown eyes far away. "He believed he could protect everyone, much like your Mandalorian seems to believe. But…" She inhaled, turning to look at you. "He was  _ not _ invincible. A moment came where a choice needed to be made, and he sacrificed himself for the greater good."

"What…" You gulped, your words suddenly refusing to cooperate. "Wh-What happened?"

"A contingent of Klatoonians circled around to the hut that we had hidden the younglings in." The older woman said softly. "Winta's father made the choice to protect the children and provide them a distraction so they could escape."

Your heart ached for her. No wonder many of the villagers seemed to look upon Omera as a leader of sorts. Her husband had paid the ultimate price to save the future of their settlement, a price that left her counting the cost every day. And now…

The realization dawned on you that the reason for this conversation was...that future had been entrusted to  _ you _ .

"Nothing and no one is getting past me. I swear." You promised her, meaning every word. "We've all trained for this. With Cara and the Mandalorian, and everyone's planning, I know that-"

"Are you prepared to make the same choice my husband made?" Omera interrupted, her question devastatingly pragmatic. "Are you prepared? What if one of your friends must make that choice? What then?"

"I…" you hesitated.  _ Friends _ . "I don't really know. All I know is that I'm going to do everything I can to keep everyone safe. No matter what it takes." You clenched your fist. "You have to count the cost and take the plunge sometimes."

"Let's both hope that our costs will be low in the light of tomorrow's dawn." Omera extended her hand and you clasped her forearm, her own fingers cupping your elbow. "Your Mandalorian seems to care for that child very much." She observed, seemingly at random until you followed her gaze to where the armored man was sitting on a rock. 

He was shifting his weight back and forth, absently knocking out a rhythm on his cuisses. The child played in the grass at his feet, waving their arms as the man aimed more of those odd gestures at them. His fingers were strangely nimble for someone wearing such thick gloves. You wondered privately if it was some kind of secret bounty hunter code.

"If you don't mind me asking, was...was your husband good with children?" You queried.

Omera shook her head with a wistful smile. " _ Maker _ , no." She chuckled. "At least not at first. Until we had Winta, he was a nervous wreck around the younglings. But once she was born, he…" She trailed off, her smile fading. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. I'm still...it's-it's difficult to talk about him." She squeezed your arm apologetically. "Hold on to your friends for as long as you can. You're still so young."

A lump of uncertainty swelled in your throat and all you could do was nod in response.  _ Could you even call them friends? _

The Mandalorian suddenly barked, " _ spit that out! _ ", the sharp order making both you and Omera look up. When you glanced over, the armored man was on the ground trying to wriggle what  _ appeared _ to be the business end of a mudjumper out of the child's mouth. 

You snorted, struggling to stifle your giggles and  _ almost _ succeeding. Until Omera erupted into peals of laughter, that is. The Mandalorian's shoulders shot up around where his ears would be, and he slowly turned to look for the source of the noise. As strange as it was to say, you could tell he was sheepish just by the little two-fingered wave he directed at you.

The armored man scooped up the child once the mudjumper crisis had been averted, long strides carrying him to where yourself and Omera sat. "You two see something funny?" He asked. Maker, was he being  _ playful? _

"Nope!" You squeaked. "Nope, nothing at all."

"Does the little one do that often?" Omera inquired, smiling again when the Mandalorian heaved a sigh and nodded rapidly. 

"Ask  _ them _ , they're the ones that ended up keeping him from choking most of the flight here." He replied, tilting his head in your direction.

"He's young, everything is new and interesting." You surmised.

"He's  _ fifty _ ." The Mandalorian said flatly. "This is a little old man in nerf's clothing. Don't be fooled."

"No he's  _ not _ ." You crooned, taking one of the proffered tiny green hands and gently swinging it back and forth while the baby babbled happily. "With those eyes? They're just a sweet innocent little baby convor."

"With the killer instinct to match." The Mandalorian retorted. "Did you see that mudjumper? This kid has a slimy body count."

"Do you?" You asked the child, smiling when they shrieked in reply. "Have you got a body count, baby bird of prey?" 

"For tonight." The Mandalorian said, suddenly back to being all-business. His rapid changes of conversation would be the death of you. "I know you're stationed with the little ones. If everything goes as planned, you won't even see action."

"I can hope, but I'll be ready either way." You murmured. Omera's hand squeezed your arm again and the widow got to her feet, waving goodbye to the baby before she departed with her mended basket. "Her husband had my job and he…" You trailed off, swallowing. "I-I guess I'm a little worried." You admitted quietly.

"I don't want you pulling any heroics." The armored man grunted. "Enough of these people are hellbent on being the front lines. They've never been able to  _ think _ about revenge before, and now that they are, well." He turned, actually  _ looking _ at you. "You have the important job. Foundlings are...excuse me,  _ younglings _ are the only way this place will live on."

"I understand." You hesitated, then asked, "can I hang onto that vibroblade for tonight? The one I've been practicing with?"

"It's yours." The Mandalorian answered firmly. 

"What,  _ no _ , that thing's power cells alone probably cost a fortune. Just let me use it ton-"

"I  _ said _ . It's.  _ Yours _ ." The man growled, propping his boot up on the porch. You got the impression that he was glaring. "You need it, you use it, you keep it."

"I hope I don't have to use it." You mumbled, wishing you didn't sound quite so scared.

"For your sake, I hope you  _ can _ use it if it comes down to it."

…

_ I hope you  _ **_can_ ** _ use it if it comes down to it. _

You scoffed to yourself, pacing back and forth in front of the hut doorway. More than anything, you prayed that the front lines would hold. You prayed that everyone would stay safe and that you wouldn't have so much as a  _ glimpse _ of action.

Your prayers appeared to go unanswered when you heard the  _ crash crash crash _ of ground-shaking footfalls. The children began to whimper amongst themselves, one girl bursting into tears when a thunderous salvo went off.  _ That _ would be the AT-ST.

You knelt beside the little girl, doing your best to soothe her panic. "It's just loud. Just noise. Like thunder, you know?" You reasoned quietly, relieved when she blinked back her tears and nodded.

There was the sound of running outside, and the guttural yells of the raiders began to reach your ears.  _ That _ boded poorly. The barricades were supposed to funnel them to the villagers, had the place already been overwhelmed?

Your brow furrowed. "Stay put, and stay quiet." You instructed Winta, doing your best to keep your voice steady. "You're in charge of the others if I have to leave at some point. I'm counting on you, Sneaks."

The little girl nodded solemnly, holding the baby in her lap. The large-eared being blinked up at you with those enormous eyes, lower lip quivering slightly.

"Hey now, it'll be okay. Don't you worry!" You cajoled, rising to your feet with an easy smile. You turned on your heel to go check the doorway again--

You caught a fleeting glimpse of a hulking form and then the stock of a blaster rifle slammed into your stomach, crushing all the breath out of your lungs with a single, calculated blow. You crumpled to your knees, retching. The world spun in grayscale, a set of boots dizzily coming into your field of vision. 

The barrel of the blaster pressed against the side of your head.

_ The younglings. _

_ The younglings!  _ **_Move_ ** _ , damn it! _

All of Cara's training rushed to the forefront of your brain and you  _ lunged _ into the raider's legs, knocking him flat on his back. His shot went wide, blowing a hole in the ceiling overhead. In the breathless second before he comprehended that he had missed, you managed to draw the vibroblade. Swinging from the side with all your strength, you watched his face tear under the brutal assault of the steel.

It was terrible. It was  _ so _ much worse than you could have imagined. What had you even been  _ thinking _ , getting involved in something like this? This was  _ nothing _ like the brawls you had gotten into over mining deposits or repair jobs. This was a thousand times worse.

_ A moment came where a choice needed to be made, and he sacrificed himself for the greater good. _

Could you make a choice like that? Did you  _ trust _ yourself with a choice like that?

A soft whimper from behind you effectively put an end to your moral quandary and your eyes narrowed.

You staggered back up, sucking wind, your shaky fingers tearing the knife loose. Armed with the whirring blade, legs akimbo over the limp form, you weren't even afforded the time to move forward before another Klatoonian made their way through the door. 

You lowered your head slightly, gripped the vibroblade a little tighter and gritted your teeth. The raider foolishly wasted his opportunity to attack you immediately, deciding instead to leer at the terrified younglings behind you. That is, until he seemed to notice the body you stood over, his eyes widening and the blaster he held jerking upwards. 

At that point it was too late. You were already on him like a wild nexu, yowling and snarling as you used the momentum of your attack and lower center of gravity to tackle him backwards out of the hut. Your elbow rammed into his arm, knocking the blaster to the side before he could use it.

_ Half of the fight is the noise you make. If you're louder, you're stronger! You're scarier! _ Cara's instructions rang in your head.

You braced the pommel of your blade with your palm and shoved it home between the helmet and armor just like the Mandalorian had shown you. It was strangely simple, the raider gurgling and flailing their arms before collapsing.

You yanked the blaster from his limp hands, fumbling to find the trigger on the unfamiliar weapon. This was bad. They weren't supposed to have even gotten  _ this _ far! Something must have gone wrong on the front lines. Had Cara or the Mandalorian been taken out? 

_ Focus. Don't panic.  _ **_Focus_ ** . You inhaled, staggering a bit as another bombardment from the walker rocked the ground.  _ That _ was the problem. They hadn't gotten rid of the AT-ST yet. No doubt all manpower was currently dealing with that issue, leaving gaps in the front line that the raiders were exploiting.

You tore your eyes away from the body in the dirt beside you, glancing around. The Klatoonian raiders appeared to have the upper hand. The AT-ST loomed in the distance, its two red viewports glowing like the eyes of a massive beast. Everywhere you looked, you saw villagers engaged with the raiders. It was  _ chaos _ . 

You pulled the trigger as a knee-jerk reaction when a raider rushed at you. The gun had more kick than you expected, bucking hard against your shoulder and the raider was  _ still _ coming for you. You frantically fought with the trigger, realizing almost too late that the gun needed to be  _ primed _ before it could be fired. 

You braced yourself better this time and your aim was true, dropping the raider what felt like bare inches away from you.

_ Count the cost and take the plunge _ .

Your back straightened up and you returned to your origin point, nervously shifting your weight back and forth on trembling legs. Despite your fear, despite your inexperience, you vowed you would not be moved from this spot.  _ Protect the younglings _ . 

The fight felt like it just went on and on. You pulled the trigger again and again, your shots missing more often than not, and when the gun ran dry you fell back on the vibroblade. It didn't matter whether you entirely  _ stopped _ the raiders that were running by the hut, you reasoned, as long as you took a chunk out of them on their way through.

It was not...particularly glamorous. Your knees were shaking, stomach rolling, jaw clenched. Nothing at  _ all _ like the propaganda imagecasts, where there was always brilliant sunlight and wind blowing while someone gave poetic rallying speeches. This was an ugly fray in the dirt, a  _ true _ skirmish, and you were scared out of your mind.

_ Nothing and no one is getting past me _ .  _ Nothing and no one is getting past me _ .  _ Nothing and no one is getting past me _ . The phrase cycled like a mantra, something for you to latch onto as you struggled.

Like you were doing the drills with the Mandalorian, you could practically hear him barking  _ louder! _ and you obeyed, snarling and snapping your teeth when you engaged the enemy. You operated on sloppy muscle memory from all the training, all the instruction that had been crammed into the last few days carrying you through the fray. Several times you missed your openings and  _ then _ you panicked, resorting to brute force to deal with the problem at hand. You knew you were too stiff, constantly flexing your fingers to keep them from cramping up. 

The vibroblade was getting hard to hold, its handle slick with blood and the sweat from your own palm, but you doggedly kept at it. 

Your arms were so heavy. 

_ How the hell does he manage this in full beskar?! _

Several villagers came to your aid at different points, blaster fire briefly taking some of the paranoid burden off and reminding you that you weren't alone in this. You were grazed in the shoulder by a raider's shot when you missed another strike, the pain bright like lightning behind your eyes, but it wasn't as if it made your arm any heavier.  _ Shake it off and keep going, rookie! The adrenaline will hold the pain! _

You would take care of it later.

Right as your second wind was abandoning you in the dust, there came the high shriek of abused metal. The walker, it seemed, had  _ finally _ taken the bait, toppling into one of the ponds. Not two moments later, it exploded  _ spectacularly _ in a massive fireball.

Your ears still ringing from  _ that _ , you almost didn't catch what happened next. You glimpsed a helmeted form climbing up one of the barricades, and then-

" _ Kote! _ " The Mandalorian roared triumphantly, slamming his gauntlet into the center of his beskar chestplate. The metal rang like a bell, echoing across the battlefield and drawing all eyes to him. Gods knew he certainly cut an impressive figure, silhouetted against the burning walker. 

The Klatoonians seemed to slowly realize that their largest advantage was now a smoldering pile of refuse, and the ones left alive began to flee back into the woods in a panicked rush. The villagers pursued, borrowed weapons and makeshift spears urging the raiders off of their land with deadly force. 

You dropped to one knee, your breath wheezing in your chest with every inhale. That whole event blew Cara and the Mandalorian's drills  _ clean _ out of the water. You felt like you could sleep for a year.

_ Younglings _ .

You got back up. 

There were only six bodies littering the ground around you, but it had seemed like an insurmountable force while you were fighting. Now you were a little embarrassed at your level of exhaustion. Again, you wondered how in the world Cara  _ or _ the Mandalorian managed while lugging their various armaments and protective gear.

You stumbled back inside the hut full of children, startled when two more of them silently crawled into your lap alongside the kid once you plopped down. "It's all but over. Few more minutes. You all did so great." You praised them, smiling tiredly and bumping their foreheads with your own. "I know that was pretty loud stuff, but you guys kept your cool. I'm very proud." Your throat burned, voice grating painfully from all the no-doubt  _ incredibly _ intimidating noises you had made.

"Are they going to come back again?" One of the little boys asked, his eyes wide. 

"I don't think so. Your parents did a  _ fantastic _ job at keeping you all as snug as womp rats in a haystack." You bit your lip, a little overwhelmed with the myriad of tiny, tear-streaked faces staring pensively up at you. Maker only knew how bad you looked right now. "Hey, the words to that song I taught you all got spooked right out of my head. Can you guys help me remember it?" You asked, grasping desperately for something to distract and occupy.

" _ Will you pay, can you pay _ …" Winta trailed off uncertainly.

"Calamari flan!" Another child supplied helpfully, wiping their eyes. " _ Build a ship as best as you can _ ." More variations. You felt yourself getting a little misty, but you chalked it up to a combination of relief and exhaustion. 

The children slowly curled up around you, little voices arguing sleepily over the lyrics in a matter of seconds. The baby snuggled into the crook of your forearm, their tiny thumb tucked into their mouth.

_ Stars _ , you were tired. 

Your eyes kept sliding closed only for you to jerk them back open seconds later. Your mouth was still dry and sour with leftover adrenaline, every muscle aching from the exertion of the earlier battle. The younglings drifted off one by one, their discussions dissolving into nothingness. 

When Cara shoved open the flap of the hut she looked fresh as a daisy, if a little damp. "Holy sh- _ stars _ ." She whispered, just barely curbing her swear in time when she spotted the mangled raider. "How did you-?" 

"Can you round up parents?" You requested softly, indicating downwards at your full lap. "I don't think I can move currently."

She nodded, retreating from the hut. You buried your face in the sleeping baby's robe, inhaling their clean scent in an effort to ground yourself. They were fine. The younglings were safe. You had succeeded. 

Somehow,  _ somehow _ , you had succeeded.

The Mandalorian was the next one in, his dark and bulky form sparking a momentary rush of panic. You had your knife out and in front of you before you could even  _ think _ , the vibroblade whining in your tight grip as you clutched the children close.

"Easy." The beskar-wearing man breathed, raising his hands. "Just me. Just me." He glanced around, then crouched and leaned in. "Parents are on their way. There's some wounded, but no dead." 

"No…?"

"Yeah." A sob rattled your aching chest at his affirmation. " _ Steady _ . It's over now." He rasped, easing the knife out of your trembling hand and switching it off. "I saw your work outside. You're really something, aren't you?" 

You were positive you were hallucinating the warmth in his tone. "Had to...keep them safe." You reasoned sluggishly. Then, "How do you  _ move _ in that stuff? Feel like my arms are going to drop off."

"Practice." He replied. His helmet tapped your forehead and you realized you had dozed off for a second. "Stay with me, stowaway. We're almost done."

"Mmhm." You mumbled, obediently keeping your eyes open. He didn't move away though, simply maintaining the even pressure of his cool helm against your heated skin. It gave you something to focus on, something to help you stay conscious. 

Battered, weary parents filtered in one by one, children getting picked up or ushered out still half-asleep. Omera hugged you fiercely tight before she departed with Winta, her gratitude warming your whole body. 

"Sleep now?" You asked the Mandalorian hopefully as he rose.

"We need to know how much of this blood is yours." He muttered, pulling you upright. He grunted in surprise when you nearly collapsed, quickly grabbing hold of your belt to steady you. "Focus, stay with me. Do you remember getting hit?"

You cast your mind back over the disjointed memories of fighting, scrunching your eyebrows in thought. "My shoulder hurts." You remarked intelligently.

"Is that the only spot?" The Mandalorian questioned, his fingers already prodding.

In reply, you scooped his hand up and proceeded to thump it clumsily on the middle of your chest. "Burns to breathe." 

All you remembered after that was the way that the world tilted and your cheek pressed against his breastplate.

…

It was raining.

Rain was so rare on Nevarro, a gift and a curse. Places flooded rapidly, but the moisture farms would flourish for months. Divining was regarded with a healthy amount of superstition, for in the water witchery of dowsing rods one could theoretically gain enough insight to keep their wells from drying and their steads from peril.

You hummed sleepily. 

Rain was so, so rare. You should get up to watch it.

When you opened your eyes, you realized you were  _ not _ on Nevarro. The memories came hot on the heels of your realization, the younglings, the  _ fight _ -

You sat bolt upright, wincing in pain when your shoulder protested the rapid movement. "Ah, ouch-"

"Don't you even  _ think _ about getting up." Cara's stern voice made you flinch guiltily, and you tucked your leg back beneath the blankets. The soldier loomed over you, a broad smile softening her features after a moment. "Glad you're awake. You snore like a bantha, y'know."

She passed you a tankard full of water and you hungrily gulped, the liquid dribbling down your chin. "Where's-" you rasped.

" _ Shush _ , you're so bad at this. Everyone is fine.  _ Everyone _ ." Dune stressed. "You just sit where you are and keep your shirt on." She settled down onto a small stool beside you, leaning forward and clasping her hands. The thick waves of her dark hair hung over her face as she joked, "It's good to have you kickin'. That baby's been gettin' on my last nerve. Oh, and the one with the big ears, too." 

"I'm sorry." You whispered, ludicrously feeling as if you had been  _ shirking _ .

" _ Don't _ apologize." Cara chided you. "I'm sure Mando'll come breezing back in here with at least two brats in tow. You can feel sorry then."

"How long did I sleep?" 

"Through the night, half into the afternoon." Cara waved a hand. "Usual rookie nap. You probably blew through your calories for the entire  _ week _ just from shaking, right?"

"How'd you guess?" You mumbled, a little embarrassed.

"You know, I haven't  _ always _ been this much of a badass." She laughed at the incredulous look you sent her way. "I'm serious! I know it's hard to believe that I wasn't assembled in a factory, chiseled from the Maker's own marble to slay, but the truth is that I am  _ human _ . I've been scared stiff loads of times." Her hand landed on your good shoulder. "The important part is still going to work, even when you're scared stiff. So I'd say you succeeded."

Your stomach growled, making you grimace. "Speaking of calories…"

Cara got to her feet, moving to the doorway. " _ Hey! _ Mando! They're awake! Stop playing in the mud and get me some stew!" She shouted. 

"How are the younglings holding up?" You asked.

"They're fine. Resilient little buggers. With some luck, most of the younger ones will think it was a nightmare." Cara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "They bounce back."

You heard steps sloshing through the puddles long before you actually  _ saw _ the armored man, and you couldn't help your smile when he did come into view. He was  _ covered _ in mud up to his thighs, his flight suit spattered liberally across the knees and elbows. 

"Good to see you conscious." He greeted you, handing Cara a steaming bowl. "The sleep after battle is the best kind." 

One of the children dragged at his arm, their body also covered from head to toe in grime. "Come on Mando, we  _ have _ to keep learning!" 

"Learning?" You asked curiously. "What are you teaching them?"

"Something important. It's," the Mandalorian hesitated, one large hand resting on the child's head. "It's a little like that song you showed them."

" _ Can you pay, can you pay, Calamari flan? _ " The child grinned, hammering out a rhythm on the Mandalorian's beskar-plated forearm. " _ Clean my ship as fast as you can! _ "

"Yeah. Like that. But different." The armored man shrugged, not seeming overly bothered by the little one currently beating a tattoo on his arm. "Rest up while you can. There was some significant structural damage during the raid, so we'll have our work cut out for us over the coming weeks."

Strangely, the implication that you would be staying didn't cause you distress. "I don't want to be dead weight, so you'd better not do too much without me." You requested, offering him a wry smile.

He cocked his head to the side, then nodded. "'Course." 

…

Over three weeks of laborious rebuilding later, you found out what he had been teaching the younglings. There had been some secretive fumbling, a few slip ups that had you suspicious, but you were just as surprised as everyone else when the children all filed into a line in front of the evening bonfire. 

The baby was there as well, held in the arms of one stoic Mandalorian. The children all bore old pots and pans, salvaged from the makeshift target range, and your brow furrowed as they dropped into strange stances.

"They wanted to learn." Was all the Mandalorian said, shrugging and carefully setting the kid down on the ground. Then, he raised his hand and struck himself on the chest like he had done during the battle.

The beskar rang out and the younglings started their performance, Winta carefully enunciating a string of words in a language you could only assume was Mando'a. The children stomped and reeled in unison, each one hammering enthusiastically on their own 'armor' and then the armor of the next child in line to keep time. 

Cara whooped and started clapping along when the Mandalorian actually moved  _ with _ them, his greaves rattling as his boots scuffed their way through the motions of the dance. For a dance it was, wheeling and enthusiastic. His modulated voice quietly echoed Winta's, prompting her occasionally when she got stuck on certain words. 

The baby squealed and waddled around, waving their arms in delight at all the commotion while the other adults began to clap in time. The whole display had your emotions knotting in your chest. The younglings had clearly put a  _ lot _ of time into learning all the steps of this particular dance, their little faces scrunched up in concentration. And overseeing it all was the sturdy form of the Mandalorian, his beskar glowing orange in the firelight while he chanted softly. It was beautiful, achingly familiar and yet alien all at once. Comradery, children at play, songs you didn't know the words to…

You watched his hands as Winta shouted, " _ Oya, oya manda! _ ", realizing that his careful gestures were lining up with the cadence of the song. He was saying things  _ with his hands _ . That was what he had been doing at the kid before! You felt a little stupid for not putting that information together sooner, but now you were seized with a burning desire to  _ know _ . What other secrets did he keep close, tightly wrapped in beskar?

The kid wandered your way and you scooped them up, holding your palm flat so they could beat their tiny hands down onto it as if they too were clapping along. Their massive ears perked up and they babbled madly at you, making you smile anew.

When you glanced back up, you could have sworn the Mandalorian was looking at you. 

Then again, it might have merely been a trick of the wavering light on his helmet. 

...

It wasn't until much later in the evening that you finally mustered up the courage to enquire about the song. After you had tucked the kid into bed, you quizzed him on it. "What is that called? The song and dance, I mean."

"It's a piece of my culture." The Mandalorian informed you solemnly. He had posted up at the doorway by Cara, one ankle slung over the other in a relaxed pose. "The  _ Dha Werda Verda _ . We're taught a few verses when we're young so we can learn how to move in sync with one another. If you step wrong, oftentimes that means you're punching your neighbor in the head. We try to learn how to avoid that early on."

"Oh. So it's kind of a training thing?"

"In a sense, yes. But at the same time…" He paused, brushing his thumb absently down the center of his breastplate. "It's tradition. The Mandalorian culture is not a peaceful one by nature; our expressions of art are made for war." He tilted his head towards you. "There are over seven hundred verses in the  _ Dha Werda Verda _ alone. It serves as both poem and battle cry."

"And you just taught it to a group of younglings." You deadpanned.

"I taught them a little." He corrected you. "Just like your song that you taught them. They'll make their own versions of mine soon enough, and theirs will be associated with peace. With safety." He shifted his weight, staring off into the darkness. "I did not...I didn't have anything else to offer them." 

"I wouldn't say  _ that _ . It's because of you and Cara that a lot of them still have parents." You pointed out. "I bet these people will tell stories about you two!"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, looking back at you. "It's thanks in no small part to  _ you _ that they still have younglings to pass the tales along."

Well,  _ that _ was a weighty thought. You silently mulled it over, concluding, "I don't need them thinking about me like that. I'm not really...well, you know.  _ Heroic _ . Not like you and Cara."

Cara spoke up from her position on the porch, dryly saying, "take the damn  _ compliment _ , will you? Not every day that a Mando wants to share glory."

The Mandalorian huffed, muttering something under his breath that had Cara reaching over to punch him in the arm. You chuckled at their antics while you watched them bicker with one another, a strange sense of peace coming over you. 

"So, what happens if you take that thing off?" Cara asked suddenly, her head tilted slightly to look up at the armored man. "They come after you and kill you?"

"No." He was silent for an inordinate amount of time and you thought that was the end of his explanation, but then, "You just can't ever put it back on again."

Cara raised an eyebrow at him. "That's it?" She sounded  _ disappointed _ , and you couldn't really blame her. After the gravity of everything that you had heard regarding Mandalorians and their helmets, it  _ was _ a little anticlimactic.

The Mandalorian nodded.

"So you could slip off the helmet and go settle down with that beautiful young widow?" Cara gestured outwards at the village with her bright blue glass of spotchka. "Raise your kid, sitting here sipping spotchka?"

You took a noisy slurp of your own spotchka for emphasis, grinning at Cara when she chuckled.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "We raised some hell here a few weeks back. That's...too much action for a backwater little town like this. Word travels fast. We might want to cycle the charts and move on."

Cara murmured, "I wouldn't want to be the one that's gotta' tell him." Her hand waved vaguely towards the bassinet where the child slept peacefully. "The kids love him, y'know."

"I'm leaving him here." Both you and Cara gawked up at the armored man, startled by his announcement. "Traveling with me...that's no life for a kid." 

It was a reasonable thing to do. Practical, even. He was a  _ bounty hunter _ . That didn't exactly scream ' _ conducive to child-rearing _ ', last you checked. But why did he sound so torn about it if he had already made up his mind?

"I did my job. He's safe. Better chance at a life." He continued stiffly after a moment.

"It's gonna' break his little heart." Dune's tone was faintly accusatory. 

"He'll get over it." The Mandalorian replied quietly. "We all do."

The three of you stared out into the darkness in silence for a  _ good _ while after that. This felt...strange. On the one hand, you could understand not wanting to endanger the kid any further, but the idea of making them  _ sad _ about anything...this concern was a new phenomenon. 

You had always been a firm believer in the notion that children were smarter than adults gave them credit for. It had made it easier to justify not saying goodbye to any of them when you headed off on your next grand adventure; you reasoned they would put it together on their own and really, there was no need for long, drawn-out farewells. 

But now, for the first time you could remember, the idea of leaving was...it made you anxious. And it wasn't even you that was preparing to leave!

"Wh-When do you want to-"

"Two days, maybe." He cocked his head at you, "I can't bring you back to Nevarro. But you don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I'm sure if I put you on a platform, someone can get you to Nevarro."

"I...can I think about it?" You implored, relieved when he nodded.

"Give me your answer tomorrow."

…

"Thanks for coming along."

"It's no trouble. About time I started pulling my weight in the security department anyhow." You checked your knife for the hundredth time and Cara grinned at you.

"Nervous?" She teased quietly. 

You winced. "Is it that obvious?" 

"Listen, you've got nothing to worry about out here aside from falling asleep due to boredom. I promise." Cara assured you, giving your shoulder a light tap. "I just walk the perimeter out of habit at this point. There's been no issues for  _ weeks _ ."

"I know, I just…" You were loathe to continue, certain that you would sound like you were whining to this  _ veteran _ of a soldier. "I guess I'm still a little uneasy from the big, uh. Fight." 

"The first sip of  _ real _ action usually leaves a bitter taste in your mouth." She murmured. "I'd be concerned if it didn't."

_ Oh _ . You glanced sidelong at her, studying her face. "Does it fade away after a while?" You questioned.

"Yes...and no." Cara seesawed her hand with a grimace. "Everyone reacts differently. Some people can process it, some people crush it down into a little ball until it explodes." She shrugged. "You never know." Her eyes focused on a point somewhere behind your left shoulder and she came to an abrupt halt. "Who…?"

You turned to follow her line of sight and your brow furrowed. It was  _ not _ someone from the village, but it also didn't appear to be a Klatoonian. Not nearly bulky enough. The long-barreled rifle on their back caught your eye. 

"Stay close, we're following them." Cara whispered, already stalking forward. 

The two of you flitted from tree to tree, pursuing the oblivious figure. They had something in their hand, something that you could see blinking red every now and then, and they were heading towards the settlement at a steady pace.

They finally stopped at the edge of the treeline, slinging the rifle off of their back. It took them a few minutes to get set up, nimbly attaching a scope before hoisting the gun and beginning to calibrate the viewfinder. 

Cara motioned for you to stay put, the soldier slinking ahead to the next tree. You had a death grip on your vibroblade, finger hovering over the button. A quiet, persistent beeping noise drew your attention and you searched for the source, locating it a second later in the form of a tracking fob attached to the person's hip. It blinked red and you realized that this person was a bounty hunter. 

_ A bounty hunter _ . Did that mean they were after someone in the village?

A shot rang out and you cringed back against the tree, only realizing after a moment that it had been Dune who shot first. A commotion rose from the village, the sound of the blaster no doubt attracting the attention of anyone who heard it. 

You rushed forward to Dune's side as she rolled the smoking body over with her boot. The fob on their belt continued to blink and beep softly even after she yanked it free. "Who were you tracking, buddy?" Cara mused aloud, very clearly unphased by the fact that she had just ended this individual's life. That made sense, though. How many times had she done this before?

You heard a rattling sound that seemed to be rapidly approaching from the direction of the village.  _ Beskar _ . "Oh boy." You said weakly. 

"What, what's-" Dune paused, obviously hearing the noise as well. "Oh. Well, brace for impact." She grimaced. "Mando drop inbound."

With a resounding  _ crash! _ the Mandalorian stormed the treeline, not even bothering to break his stride so he could maneuver around the underbrush. He somehow exuded  _ fury _ , his tense body language screaming  _ danger danger danger! _

Unconsciously, you shifted so Dune was between you and him. She shot you an amused glance, standing her ground with her arms crossed. 

The armored man slowed only marginally once he appeared to notice the two of you, his shoulders slumping. "What happened?" He called, his voice rasping through his modulator.

"We caught a hunter." Cara replied, waving the tracking fob. "Fob doesn't sound like it's for you or me.  _ Or _ for this lovely person who is currently cowering behind me." She ribbed you, making you huff in embarrassment and shuffle out from the safety of her shadow.

He obviously wasn't on the offensive anymore but  _ Maker _ , he was terrifying when he was! The Mandalorian extended a hand to take the fob, moving in a slow circle and then halting when he faced the village. "It's for the kid. They're...they're after the  _ kid _ ." He gritted out a word you didn't know, " _ Osi'kyr _ ," then dropped the fob on the ground and crushed it with one violent stomp. "I have to take him and leave." He said after a moment of staring down at the destroyed object.

"They'll keep coming?" Dune asked.

"Where there's one, there's more." The Mandalorian sighed heavily, "I know hunters." He pointed at you suddenly. "Choice?"

It took the barest split-second of thought. "I'm with you." You hesitated, then added, "I can help keep the baby safe."

"Good." He sounded like he was  _ relieved _ , of all things. "We have to move fast."


	4. Reaching Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains character death. Stay safe!]

" _ Hand over the child, Mando. _ " The man's voice said cooly over the comms. " _ I  _ **_might_ ** _ let you live. _ "

You snarled under your breath in frustration and you heard the Mandalorian echo your sentiment. Ever since the two of you had departed Sorgan, your proverbial footsteps had been dogged by hunters. At least they had followed you instead of harassing the small village. You still had yet to learn  _ why _ the child was being hunted, but you supposed that was a minor detail in light of your current predicament.

" _ I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold! _ " The hunter continued to taunt as another hit rocked the  _ Crest _ . The left engine sputtered and whined, rattling audibly. 

"Alright,  _ that's it _ ." The Mandalorian bit out, flipping switches to cut power from the engine before it shredded itself. "You're up." He informed you, reaching for the thruster bar. "Be ready on the guns, we'll only get one shot at this. Take out that son of a bitch."

Your eyes were glued to the targeting screen, only barely noticing the choke of the thrust and subsequent drag of the  _ Crest _ that threw you sideways against your seat harness. All you cared about was that blue ship indicator on the screen  _ finally _ blinking red. 

Right before the  _ Crest's _ artillery roared to life and reduced the bastard that had been tracking you to space debris, the Mandalorian growled, "that's  _ my _ line."

You laughed in relief, slumping down in the seat. "We did it!" You cheered quietly, raising your fist to bump his own when he extended it back to you. 

Your celebration was short-lived, however, as sparks exploded across the panel in front of the armored man. He swore under his breath, quickly readjusting trajectory coordinates while the sextant holo reeled drunkenly. "Looks like the damage was already done. Sorry, stowaway. Unplanned pit stop." The Mandalorian grunted, actually managing to sound the tiniest bit contrite.

The ship shuddered and lurched, listing slightly while its main working engine struggled to maintain forward motion. "As long as we land safely, I can live with it." You assured him, eyeing the large, tan planet that loomed in the viewport. "Where to?"

"Tattooine. Closest port's Mos Eisley. Should be able to find a job so we can afford repairs." He flipped a switch overhead, then pressed his fingers to the side of his helmet. There was a shrill burst of feedback and he shook his head, grumbling and striking the control panel with a firm hand. Then, he tapped the side of his helmet again.

There was a brief pause. " _ Th-is is Mos Eisley Tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, o-ver _ ." 

The voice was staticky, but still easily understood. "Copy that." The Mandalorian confirmed, toggling the overhead switch. "Locked in for three-five."

His fingers drummed on the control panel absently, then shifted around to check the levels as the  _ Razor Crest _ began its approach.

…

The landing was, to quote a certain armored man... _ not spectacular. _

You could feel the  _ Crest _ sliding to one side, the Mandalorian just barely missing the edge of the hangar bay. The landing gear whined loud when it extended and the whole ship settled onto the ground with a series of clatters and clanks that had you grimacing. You clearly had your work cut out for you.

"I'll get started." You sighed, undoing your harness. 

"No. Stay put." He answered sharply, already shuffling past you.

"What? But I'm...I can help!" You protested, pursuing him down the ladder. Was he  _ really _ still in that mindset of not letting you do anything? Even after you had patched this junker up on Sorgan?! 

The boarding ramp lowered, steam billowing as the cool air inside the ship hit the blistering heat outside. Now  _ this _ felt familiar. Sand, sun, grungy little droids…

You opened your mouth to greet the spindly pit bots and a blaster bolt kicked up a chunk of sand right in front of the closest droid. You whirled, snapping, "Hey! Do  _ not _ shoot them! I was going to say hello!" 

The impassive man offered you a shrug, sliding his blaster back into its holster before droning, "No droids near my ship."

You threw your hands up and then jammed them in your coveralls, spotting a surly-looking woman heading your direction. "You can talk your  _ own _ way out of this one, bucket boy." You muttered.

A stifled chuckle issued from the Mandalorian at your hissed words, the warm noise sliding down your spine to curl in your stomach. You blinked several times, a little confused at the violent reaction your body had to something as mundane as his  _ laugh _ . 

The older woman (her jumpsuit name patch read  _ PELI _ in faded blue lettering) did in fact proceed to verbally rip the Mandalorian limb from limb for " _ putting his bolts anywhere near her bots. _ " She then started looking the  _ Crest _ over, somehow simultaneously unimpressed with the state of it and impressed that he had managed to land it at all.

The Mandalorian bore the assault silently, but you could tell how irritated he was just from the set of his shoulders. You refused to pity him though, at least not outwardly. "I've got five hundred Imperial credits." He stated once she allowed him to get a word in edgewise.

"Five hundred and  _ seven _ ." You amended, shooting him a glare when he jerked his head to the side to look at you.

The woman snorted derisively, frizzy hair bouncing on her shoulders with the force of her head shake. "That'll cover the  _ bay _ , but you want repairs done without droids. My time is valuable!"

"I'll get you your money." The armored man assured her tersely.

"I've heard  _ that _ one before."

"I'm a former detailer." You spoke up, drawing her attention off of him. "I can follow directions and I'm familiar with this particular craft."

"Ah,  _ that's _ why he's got you with him?" Peli mused sarcastically. "I figured it was for your stellar listening skills."

"I'm also a real crackerjack of a singer." You shot back, grinning. "I help keep the ship morale up."

"Oh I'll  _ bet _ you do." She rolled her eyes and then jabbed a stern finger up at the Mandalorian. "Listen, I'll get  _ started _ on it. But I'm making no promises and if you try to stiff me, I'm not giving you your junker back. Understand?"

He exhaled hard, nodding. 

Peli made a shooing motion. "Alright then, _git!_ Go on. Off you go. Find a good bounty and _don't_ you dare come back without the money!" The fact that she was _ordering_ _him around_ made your giggles incredibly difficult to stifle, but somehow you managed until he stalked off out of the hangar. "Mandos are always so self-important and _broody_." Peli informed you sagely over the sound of your sputtering laughter. "Gotta' take 'em down a peg or two whenever you can." 

A wail echoed from inside the ship and your cackling jerked to a halt. "Oh!" You exclaimed, bolting back up the ramp. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

The child, who had awoken alone and secured in the bunk, sniffled up at you when you hit the auto-roll for the shutter. They looked so incredibly distressed that you immediately felt guilty, scooping them up and moving back to the ramp. 

"I'm sorry, were you scared?" You asked the child as their eyes squinted in the brilliant desert sunlight. "It's okay, I'm right here with you."

Peli whistled. " _ Maker _ , that thing is ugly. But a cute kinda' ugly, I guess." The baby cooed, clawed fingers tangling into your tan cloak. " _ Oh _ , he's a little heartbreaker. Look at those eyes!" Peli appeared to be absolutely  _ smitten _ , the older woman scooting in close to examine the child. "You'll need to be careful with his ears in this sunlight, he looks thin-skinned. Don't want him gettin' crispy, no we don't!" She continued in a singsong tone, tickling them under their chin. 

…

You were uncertain of when  _ exactly _ the Mandalorian had returned from his job hunt, too preoccupied with the repair work. Up to your armpits in the left engine's ion acceleration chamber, to be precise. 

Your only warning was an abrupt shout of " _ hey! _ " and then the kid started bawling, which in turn sent you into fight or flight mode. You pulled free of the turbine and skittered down to the cockpit of the ship, hauling your wrench with you for protection. 

Your heart rate slowed once you realized he was just arguing with Peli, the older woman holding the child protectively to her chest.

"And  _ you! _ " The Mandalorian yelled up at the ship, making you squirm guiltily. "Get  _ down _ from there, I told you before that I don't want-"

"They're just helping me out!" Peli protested. "My joints are too rickety to be up on top of that death trap."

The Mandalorian glared at her, his shoulders heaving. You scrambled down the handholds alongside the cockpit and dropped to the ground from there, hesitantly coming alongside the seething bounty hunter. "I...I just wanted to help." You mumbled, fidgeting with the wrench and then tugging the repair manual Peli had given you out of your pocket. "I can-"

" _ Fine _ ." The armor-clad man spat, the word jagged even through his modulator. "I've gotten a job. Shouldn't take too long." He was pointedly avoiding looking at you, all of his attention narrowed to Peli and the child in her arms. 

The noise of an engine outside the doorway had him jerking his head up, and with a final muttered expletive he stormed off. Peli followed after him, still berating him for his " _ rude language in front of the baby! _ ", and you trailed along behind. You were admittedly curious about the job. What could he have found in this tiny little town? Did they even  _ have _ a Guild outpost here?

Once you reached the outer doorway, you realized that he was  _ apparently _ no longer working alone. There in front of you was a young man, dressed in entirely the wrong clothes for the climate. He was perched nonchalantly atop a speeder bike, a second one hovering alongside him. "Mando!" He greeted the armored man, gesturing at the bike. "What do you think? Not too shabby, eh?" 

The Mandalorian just grunted, beginning to circle around the bike. 

Your hands balled into fists and you huffed out an angry breath. Oh sure, he would work with some random  _ stranger _ he dug up out of the sand! But the second  _ you _ tried to be helpful, you got put in a glorified cupboard on baby duty! 

The young man leaned back, giving you a friendly look that went on for a  _ bit _ too long. "Hey there. Name's Toro. Toro Calican." He introduced himself with a little bow, a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth. "I've been here a while but I haven't seen you before."

"Let's  _ go _ ." The Mandalorian demanded before you could say anything to Toro, impatiently revving the starter on his speeder bike.

"Stay safe!" You snapped. You  _ might _ have said it more out of spite than good will, but the wish was no less potent for it.

The armored man tilted his head, giving the impression that he was surprised. "You...you as well." He replied begrudgingly, then opened the throttle.

"It was nice meeting you!" Toro called over the sound of the engine, throwing up a quick wave before he set off in pursuit of the other man.

"Well,  _ that _ was interesting." Peli mused once the two hunters had vanished into the dust. She shot you a curious look. "Is your Mandalorian always so possessive?"

"He's not  _ my _ Mandalorian!" You retorted hotly. "I have no idea why he's being so... _ so _ -"

"Pigheaded? Stubborn?  _ Broody? _ " Peli suggested one word after another and you felt yourself smiling, even though you were still angry.

" _ Stupid _ ." You corrected her. "He's stupid. And not mine. I take no ownership of  _ that _ ." You gestured out at the sand dunes. "If there's work that needs to be done, I'm  _ not _ asking for permission."

"Well, we had better get to it then!" Peli said, strangely enthusiastic. "There's a hell of a fuel leak I'm going to need you for, as well as some kinks in the strut shocks. Never mind the engine, though I'm sure you're already halfway done with it."

You flipped to the first page in the repair manual, tapping your fingers down on the exploded view of the engine. "I  _ did _ have a question about this section here. As you can see, this one has a weird shear point where one of the bolts should be removed. If I put the pins here instead, do you think it would hold better?"

…

The two of you worked long into the night. It seemed as soon as you fixed one thing, a new issue would arise. The  _ Crest _ had been held together with nothing but spot-welding and a prayer! Your stomach flip-flopped at the realization that you had trusted  _ that _ in deep space. Granted, you hadn't exactly  _ picked _ the ship you were stranded on, but still-!

"You are a lucky,  _ lucky _ thing." Peli called up the ladder, continuing to seat the refresher's new gasket snugly into its coupling. "If this seal had gone, your whole  _ ship _ would be swamped with the grey tank backwash."

"Better the grey tank than the black tank." You replied, laughing when she made a gagging sound. You had taken a break from the engine to unbolt the cockpit shielding so you could scrape it, planning on putting down a fresh line of caulking around the edges of each pane. When you and the Mandalorian had returned to the _Razor_ _Crest_ after it had been parked on Sorgan, a small puddle had collected on the floor beside the pilot's chair. Whether from condensation or an actual leak you couldn't say, but _everything_ on the ship seemed due for a replacement.

"Pass me the sealant when you're done with it." Peli requested loudly. "This gasket won't do you any good unless I patch these areas."

"Need the spanner too? I've got the fifths up here." You offered, hanging upside down through the ladder port to hand her the extra tube of caulking.

"Yeah--wait no, give me the flathead. Sealant and flathead so I can cinch this ring." Peli tweaked one of the child's ears fondly while you fumbled around in your tool belt. Sure, you could have sat upright and gotten it done much quicker, but hanging upside down was half the fun of even  _ having _ a tween-decks ladder in the first place. "Does he usually just watch like this? He's being so quiet!" She remarked.

"Those eyes see everything." You replied wryly. "They're probably just glad something isn't exploding near them."

" _ Exploding? _ " Peli sputtered. "What have you two been up to?!"

You bit your lip, uncertain of how much you should  _ actually _ say. "We had a few run-ins with some...less than friendly people. Raiders and stuff."

"And  _ how _ did you end up around people like that?" Peli queried, her voice muffled as she ducked back into the fresher. 

You groaned, rolling over onto your back on the cockpit floor and staring up at the starry sky overhead. "A certain  _ stupid _ armored individual with a gruff attitude and…" you paused as the gravity of what you were saying hit you. "...and...and a soft spot for helping people in trouble."

" _ Oho _ , so that's his story, huh?" Peli's tone was smug. "Should have figured. Not  _ everyone _ reacts like a raging anooba when they see a stranger holding their baby." 

"Is  _ that _ what he was angry about?"

"I'm pretty sure if I hadn't been holding this little nub the way I was, your Mandalorian would have put a hole in my chest." She didn't sound overly concerned.

"Not mine." You corrected her absently, getting back up and using the flat of your old knife to smooth out the bead line. "Never mine." You murmured quietly to yourself, barely resisting the urge to heave another sigh. Obviously the armored man's most prolific method of expression was rubbing off on you if even  _ you _ were resorting to sighing. 

What were you  _ thinking _ , letting yourself get all twisted up over someone like him? This was pointless. 

…

It was mid afternoon, nearly dusk the following day when you finally managed to finish repairing the engine. It had been a big job, the biggest one you'd ever tackled, but Peli looked it over several times and declared it fine work. 

"You did almost as good as my droids!" She exclaimed, one of the spindly bots beeping a loud complaint in reply. "I'd offer you a job if I thought you'd take it, but I know better than to trust your Mandalorian alone with this little angel."

You had given up on insisting he wasn't  _ your _ Mandalorian, simply rolling your eyes instead of wasting your breath. "What does the rough estimate look like? I may have no choice but to work off the debt if he doesn't come back." After the playful words left your mouth, your brow furrowed. He had said it wouldn't take too long. What was  _ his _ idea of not taking too long? A day? Three days?

Concern churned in your mind as the older woman laughed off your inquiry. You had no real frame of reference to work with, no clue how long a bounty hunt could  _ actually _ go on for. What if something had happened to him? You swallowed hard. 

What if he and that young man he had joined forces with were stranded somewhere out in the dunes? Guilt elbowed in to war with the concern. If something  _ had _ gone wrong, the last thing you said to him…

_ Stay safe _ , your memory reminded you, in a tone laden with spiteful sarcasm. 

You shook your head at your unusually-dire train of thought. That would do you no good! The Mandalorian would be back soon enough and then you would be on your way to wherever came next, is what you told yourself firmly. 

_ Fake it 'til you make it, right? _

In the face of the encroaching twilight you sat cross-legged on the boarding ramp, slowly fishing tiny bits of pickled mudjumper out of one of the jars that Omera had sent with you. The child gurgled happily, little fingers clumsily shoving the meat into their mouth.

"Do I even want to know?" Peli inquired warily, gesturing at the jar.

"Mudjumpers." You replied, giving the brine a shake. "The kid loves 'em. They'd eat 'em whole."

The older woman pulled a face. "He's lucky he's cute. For anyone else, that'd be a dealbreaker."

The pit droids abruptly started to shriek and rattle, indicating that something had spooked them. You peered out into the darkness, squinting and then grinning with relief. "Mr. Calican!" You greeted the young man gladly, getting to your feet and wiping your hands off with a rag. "I take it you two finished the job?" You looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the large, beskar-clad form bringing up the rear. "Where's the Mandalorian?"

Toro seemed a bit preoccupied and didn't answer you immediately, his eyes darting to the baby who was still gnawing on a chunk of mudjumper. "Oh, yeah. Mando's uh...he'll be along. You guys have any water? I'm parched."

"Of course! I'll get you some, give me a second." You nodded, turning and rushing back into the  _ Crest _ . As much as you had been fearing and anticipating the Mandalorian's return, it was still a relief to know that he was alright. 

Calican accepted the small canteen you gave him with a murmur of thanks. He had the kid on his knee, the small child too invested in their snack to pay him any mind. "He's a cute little guy. Where'd you pick him up?" Toro asked curiously. 

You shook your head. "I couldn't say. He was here before me. The tyke is a veteran shipmate." 

"Oh? Huh. Interesting." Toro took another long swig from the canteen. "You know, I heard something a while back."

You cocked your head, confused and a little uneasy at the way his expression had darkened. You abruptly wished that he wasn't holding the kid. "What...what did you hear?"

"Well, I mean, it's not  _ that _ interesting. Still…I'm kinda' interested to figure out if it's true or not." He shifted to his feet and pressed his blaster to the side of the child's head. "Call it... _ morbid curiosity _ ."

"W-What are you doing?" You asked, your voice shaking. "Calican, if this is a joke, it's not-"

"Keep back." He warned sharply. "I'm not looking to hurt any of you, but I will if I have to."

The blaster gave neither you nor Peli any room to argue, though the older woman still wanted to try. "You're gonna' be  _ real _ sorry when their Mandalorian gets here!" She said angrily, her hands hoisted over her head.

Toro scoffed. " _Their_ _Mandalorian_ is a traitor who shot up the Bounty Hunter's Guild on Nevarro! I'm bringing him to justice." He announced, his voice dripping with self-importance while he prodded the baby with his blaster. His motions made your heart leap into your throat in terror, "and _this_ little runt is stolen property, which needs to be returned to its rightful owner."

Your mind whirled. That  _ couldn't _ be right. Nevarro--

What the armored man had admitted to you on Sorgan came rushing to the forefront of your memory,  _ "I won't be able to bring you back to Nevarro. I can't...I can't go back there." _

Was it true? Is that what the child was? Is  _ that _ why he couldn't return? He had  _ stolen _ the child and shot up the Guild?

You took a step forward without conscious thought, reaching down to your boot for your vibroblade. "Let them go." 

Toro wasn't some hulking Klatoonian. He wasn't a veteran dropship trooper and he  _ definitely _ wasn't a lightning-fast Mandalorian. As far as you could tell he was just like you, except he had a gun. Reducing him down to  _ that _ made him much less terrifying.

The young man yelped, jamming the blaster against the child's head. "You do anything with that and I'm gonna' take this kid apart. All I want is the Mandalorian." He snapped.

"Unfortunately for  _ you _ , all I want is the kid." You snarled.

He whipped his blaster around to  _ your _ head, obviously shaken. "I'm not-"

"If you shoot me, you'd better kill me. Because if you hurt that child, I  _ will _ kill you." You announced firmly, your trembling knees locked in place.  _ He's just a human. He's young and dumb _ . "Let me hold the child and I'll get rid of my knife." You bargained, holding the weapon up. "I know how the kid operates. If you keep jostling them around like that, you're going to make them cry. They're  _ loud _ , Toro. Someone will hear." You extended your hands. "I promise. All I want is the kid."

Toro appeared to mull it over, his eyes narrowed as he stared at you. "Drop the knife first." He demanded finally. "You drop that knife and...and you  _ promise _ to keep this little bastard quiet."

You nodded. Your blade landed with a hollow clatter on the boarding ramp and Toro shoved the child into your waiting grasp. You didn't even have a second to breathe before the young man had your free arm wrenched behind your back, making you cry out in pain when he twisted your wrist. 

" _ Calican! _ "

You almost lost your grip on the child in relief when you spotted the Mandalorian standing at the end of the ramp, blaster in hand and  _ somehow _ giving off the impression that he was fit to be tied. He had his shoulders squared, helmet tilted down and his feet spread like a raging mudhorn about to charge.

"Took you long enough, Mando." The young man drawled, his blaster thumping against your temple. "Looks like I'm calling the shots now, huh partner? Drop your blaster and raise 'em. And  _ you _ ," he jeered in your ear, "had better stay where you are if you know what's good for you."

The Mandalorian obeyed grudgingly, spitting, " _ Damn _ it stowaway, why-"

"Hey, it's not  _ my _ fault that your hotshot pet bounty hunter skittered out from underneath your thumb!" You barked at him.

"I told  _ you _ to stay  _ safe! _ " He bellowed in reply.

"I told  _ you _ first!" You screamed. 

"Will you  _ shut _ the hell up?" Calican punctuated his request with a solid slam of the pistol grip into the side of your head, the blow sending stars across your vision. "Shut the hell  _ up _ , the both of you. Now," He continued to Peli, tossing her a set of magnacuffs. "Cuff him."

The older woman slowly made her way down the ramp and Calican shifted his weight nervously, keeping you tight against his side as a human shield. "Fennec was right." He giddily declared to the Mandalorian. "Bringing you in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me  _ legendary _ ." 

The baby squirmed against your arm, obviously uncomfortable. "It's alright, sweetheart." You crooned, trying your hardest to keep your voice steady. "I'm right here with you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Yeah, except it's not really up to you anymore, is it?" Calican pointed out snidely. Peli raised the cuffs to snap them onto the Mandalorian's wrists and Toro's arm went tense, no doubt in preparation to squeeze the trigger. 

There was a strangely-muffled report and then blinding light seared your eyes, forcing you to slam them shut.  _ Was that a flare? _ When you opened them again, the Mandalorian was gone. Toro swore, firing wildly at where the armored man  _ had _ been standing. The kid started to sob pitifully and you struggled against Calican, simultaneously panicking and  _ furious _ . "Let me  _ go! _ " You yelled, straining to twist free. 

The distinctive sound of the Mandalorian's heavy blaster firing from the side made your ears ring. Calican grunted and you felt his hold on you tighten, the young man toppling off the edge of the ramp. 

_ The baby! _

You reeled, cupping the back of their head when Toro's limp weight knocked you over with him. You barely managed to roll in time, absorbing the brunt of the impact with your shoulder as you hit the ground still half on top of Calican. The sharp edges of his belt buckle drove into your hip for your trouble. 

You coughed out, keenly aware that the child was  _ screaming _ . Maker, hopefully they were simply spooked by all the commotion. After all, if something happened to them the Mandalorian would  _ absolutely _ slab you, or worse. 

"You're alright sweetheart." You assured them shakily. You settled onto your haunches as they continued to wail, keeping them tight to your body while you blinked away your reflex tears. "Shh, shh, you're alright. It was just noise and some bumps, love," you soothed, rocking them gently. "I've got you."

The Mandalorian skidded to his knees in front of you, gloved hands fumbling at the little one's limbs like he was checking for breaks. As the child's hysterics petered out into exhausted sniffling, the armored man slowed somewhat. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I-I shouldn't have-"

"Hey, hey. You got him." You interrupted, shaking your head. "I'm just glad you're such a good shot. I'm sure losing my cool didn't help your aim!"

"I d-didn't...know what to do." He admitted. "He was...I just couldn't think of anything else." His hand covered your own on the back of the child's head. "I'm sorry. For everything." He apologized sincerely. "For being so--for treating you like…" he trailed off, muttering something under his breath. His helmet pressed to your forehead and you cursed inwardly, positive he could feel you trembling. "You're not here because you  _ chose _ to come along." He said finally.

"I  _ did _ choose, but I get it." You said softly. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been so reckless. Both when I was working on the ship and, uh, just now, I guess."

"No, you did well. You...you did  _ very _ well." There was a smile in his voice when next he spoke, "You got him to hand over the kid so I could take a clear shot. You keep surprising me, stowaway."

"Alright, break it up!" Peli said loudly, getting between the two of you to extract the snuffling child. "Honestly,  _ shameless. _ " She chided and the Mandalorian sighed in exasperation, the familiar noise making you smile for a second. "Now, I'm going to  _ assume _ you didn't get paid." 

The armored man turned and jerked a small pouch off of Toro's belt, then tipped the prolific contents into the older woman's hand. "That cover me?" He asked bluntly.

"Oh." Peli pursed her lips. "Yeah, yep. I'd say that'll just...well, you can have your five hundred seven deposit back." She amended after a moment of counting the various currencies in her palm.

The Mandalorian shook his head. "Keep it. We've put you through enough." He pulled you upright and as he moved to take the child back, you noticed the large impact mark on his breastplate for the first time.

"Hey, wait." You said, catching his arm. "What happened? Your chest…"

"Sniper bolt." He muttered to you. "Beskar took the brunt of it. Got a bruise and a headache from the impact."

" _ Excuse _ me,  _ sniper?! _ " You squeaked. 

"The bounty. She's dead, thanks to a certain  _ someone _ ." The Mandalorian grumbled, none-too-subtly shoving the toe of his boot into Toro's ribs. A large hand palmed the side of your head and you winced, letting him check the area where Toro had struck you with his gun. "Doesn't look like he broke the skin, but you'll be sore."

"Yeah, and you mauling me like a wampa isn't  _ exactly _ helping that." 

"Sorry. Forgot you're not used to the armor." He apologized again. Maker, you could endure him being apologetic! It made his voice all gentle, even through the modulator. He touched his forehead to the child's, running through a few gestures as their tiny hands clawed for purchase on his smooth helmet. "Let's get moving."

You caught his arm again when he went to turn away and you shifted up onto your tiptoes to press your forehead against his helmet. "Thank you." You said sincerely.

He was still for a moment, before he simply responded, "This is the Way."

"Alright pit droids, let's get this out of here!" Peli ordered, gesturing down at the former Calican as the Mandalorian headed into the  _ Crest _ with you in tow.

…

You settled the child into their bassinet, running a hand over their tiny head. Those eyes watched you blearily, and a small hand clutched at your sleeve when you went to leave. "Okay love. Do you need a song?" You asked softly, smiling. "A little song so you can sleep?"

The child whimpered uncertainly, their body wriggling underneath their covers. 

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms and leaning on the edge of their bassinet. " _ Say 'nightie-night' and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me _ ," you sang, stroking a gentle finger down the bridge of their petite nose. " _ While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me… _ " You hummed a few bars, continuing to stroke downward on their face. Soon enough (sooner than you expected, truthfully), their heavy little eyelids slid shut. 

You rose from your spot beside their bassinet, stretching and then climbing the ladder to the cockpit.

"How is he?" The Mandalorian asked worriedly before you could even sit down. 

"Tired," was your honest answer. "I didn't even get through the full song before he was gone."

"At least he's sleeping." He sounded relieved. The  _ Razor Crest _ cruised along sand dunes and broad, flat mesas bathed in the light of the stars and you moved up to the side of his chair, wanting to take in the sight before the ship broke the atmosphere. 

"Wow." You breathed. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head to look up at you, but you didn't pay it any mind. "It looks so pretty from up here. Lonely, but..." 

"Beautiful." The Mandalorian finished quietly when you trailed off.

"Mm, yeah. Melancholy." You nodded, accidentally bumping his shoulder as you went to go back to your seat. He waved off your apology silently, already heavily involved in making the star map calculations. 

You just sat and looked on passively, swiveling the seat back and forth. He was entirely engrossed, fingers tracing diagonal lines as he plotted the course he intended to take. It was entrancing to watch him work, watch the calculations play out in real time at the flick of a switch or the pull of a lever. You were so used to astromech droids being readily available, you had never realized the amount of  _ effort _ that went into something as 'everyday' as flying a ship.

"I'm going to clean myself up." He announced after the  _ Crest _ punched through the atmosphere and shifted into hyperdrive. "I've got sand in places I didn't know existed."

"It was just like being back on Nevarro." You said with a smile. He unbuckled his harness and rose from his seat, squeezing past you in the tight space. He stank of speeder oil and dewback, so you were  _ absolutely _ on board with him bathing. 

Before he swung down onto the ladder, though, you heard him grunt and his breath hitched.

"Are you alright?" The query came out louder than you had intended, making you cringe at your own volume. 

"The bitch shot the speeder out from beneath me  _ before _ she tried to kill me." He shook his head. "I got thrown. Just a little banged up, that's all." 

"Do you…" You struggled to get the words out as he waited patiently at the top of the ladder. "Do you need help? I mean, I know you've probably dealt with way worse stuff than this. Alone, y'know."

You waited for the curt dismissal, or even worse, the heavy, wordless sigh. But instead, "That's very kind of you."

_ What? _

He cocked his helmet, his visor just as unreadable as ever. "I'm sorry if I caused you concern." He said evenly. "I'm alright."

"Wh--Concerned? Me?  _ Ha! _ I wouldn't...what, about  _ you? _ It'd never happen!" You blustered. "I-I was just offering because I know you're--you don't have a great range of motion, that's all!"

He immediately bristled, "My range of motion is  _ just fine _ -"

"Psh, you could barely get your hands up behind your helmet!" You teased, raising your own arms in mockery of his earlier motion.

"I'm stiff and  _ sore _ . That's got nothing to-" The Mandalorian cut himself off with a growl, shaking his head again. "You're ridiculous."

"If you need help, I'm here." You sang.

"You  _ certainly _ are, aren't you." And with that wry observation, he clunked heavily down the ladder.

You unbuckled your own harness once you were certain he was sequestered in the fresher, getting to your feet and pulling your tunic up over your head. Toro's belt buckle had left a healthy divot in your side just above where your pants sat; you winced in pain every time your waistband grazed the area. 

You reached for your toolbelt, abandoned on the floor hours earlier once you had finished your work on the engine, and rifled through the pouches for your jar of bacta salve. A staple of any self-proclaimed drifter, the thick cream was useful for everything from numbing to disinfecting an area. You scooped a healthy amount into your palm and then gingerly started smearing it on the angry reddish-purple mark, hissing in pain.

The sound of footsteps on the ladder took you by surprise and you froze as the Mandalorian hoisted himself back up into the cockpit, flight suit peeled down to his waist and sans-armor aside from his helmet. 

He  _ also _ froze when he saw you all hunched over without your tunic on. Or at least, you  _ thought _ he saw you. It was difficult to tell where he was looking sometimes. 

"Sorry." You apologized with a helpless little grimace after he just  _ stood _ there for a minute. "I thought you'd, uh, take longer."

"When did that happen? Did he do that to you?" His voice was rough.

"Oh! It's...it's from when I fell." Why was breathing so difficult all of a sudden? "He had a really fancy buckle that made itself comfortable in my hip." The Mandalorian crouched beside you, his hand reaching out. "Wait!" You exclaimed, catching his wrist with two of your clean fingers. "If you get this salve on your gloves, it'll stain-"

" _ I don't care _ ." He gritted out. Something in his tone caught you off-kilter, different from when he had been apologetic. His fingers pressed into the skin just above the bruise, holding the area taut. "Shit." He grunted, his thumb circling to rub some of the salve in. "You landed  _ hard _ ."

"Had to. It was either that or crush the baby, and I'm not looking to hurt the kid  _ and _ get slabbed for my trouble." You mumbled. 

His head jerked up to look at you, beskar helmet barely missing your face. "What?" He asked. Why did he sound  _ confused _ , of all things? He had been the one to threaten you with it!

"W-Well, when I first...when I came onboard, you told me you'd put me in carbonite. You know, if…if something happened to the kid?" You answered hesitantly.

He was silent for a long time, just continuing to work the salve into your skin while you sat panicking. "That was before," he finally replied quietly. "You were a variable. But after what happened on Sorgan, I..."

" _ Anyway _ , I'm  _ not _ the one you should be worried about right now," you rushed on to point out. " _ You're _ the one who got thrown from a speeder bike and shot and whatever  _ else _ you're not telling me. You're kind of the tactical priority in this outfit." 

His chuckle was rueful. "Just thrown and shot a few times, stowaway. I'm hungry, thirsty and sore, not dying."

"Want me to put together a snack for once you're done getting rinsed off? It's the least I can do for your help here." You offered, gesturing down at your side.

He shook his head. "No. I-I won't be able to eat with you."

"I didn't assume that you would." You startled yourself with your own reply. "I know that your helmet is...well, a fixture. I don't know a  _ lot _ about the Mandaloria...Mandalorian culture, obviously, but I know enough not to expect any shared mealtimes."

"I'm sorry."

" _ Shush _ , look, I get it. It's a vital part of your people's way of life, right?" You waited for his nod while struggling back into your tunic. "So, stop  _ apologizing _ . Lots of different people have lots of different cultures. You not taking your helmet off isn't  _ offending _ me, it's what your people  _ do _ . It's your reality, your day to day." You thumped your chest sternly, " _ This is the Way _ , right?"

He laughed quietly, mimicking your gesture. "This is the Way."

"So don't worry about it. I just feel bad that you probably only get a few minutes to eat." You continued, "If you want, you can just tell me when you want your, um, out of helmet time, and I can leave you alone until you say otherwise?" 

"I've survived this long." The Mandalorian hesitated, "That's kind of you to offer, though."

"I'm sure you're used to being alone and being able to take it off whenever." You theorized, a little sad that he had to stay in it all the time now just because you or the child were with him.

"I usually keep it on regardless." He shrugged. "Taking it off just means I have to put it back on. It's a necessity."

"Well yeah but...I'm sure you'd like to  _ not _ have to inhale your food. Maybe wash your hair.  _ Ooo _ , wait, do you not have any hair? Are you  _ bald? _ " You gasped in mock-horror, clutching at your chest theatrically. "Maker, is  _ that _ why you all keep your helmets on? You're as bald as the kid, aren't you?"

"I do  _ groom myself _ , you know. Regularly." The Mandalorian retorted, the tilt of his head decidedly haughty. "And I'm not  _ bald _ . Wish I was sometimes. The nape of my neck grows quickly and if I'm sweaty, I get knots."

"Sounds like something that a bald person would say if they're trying to hide it." You teased, grinning at him.

"M' not  _ bald _ ." He insisted after a second, sounding almost sulky. He yanked his threadbare liner shirt up, jabbing a finger at the thick trail of hair that began around his belly button. "I  _ grow _ hair. I  _ have _ hair." He continued indignantly.

"You  _ have _ pubes." You corrected him automatically, your brain grinding to a halt afterwards.  _ Maker _ , had you really just-?! 

"I've got  _ body hair _ ." He stressed firmly. "Hair  _ on my body _ . Not just my pubic area."

Ignoring the incredibly alluring prospect of  _ following _ that trail of body hair down past where his flight suit bunched up around the 'V' of his hips, you forced your eyes upwards when he dropped his shirt hem. " _ Stars _ , that looks like it hurts." You winced sympathetically, taking in the livid purple contusion that spread across his right pectoral. The fact that it was dark enough for you to see it clearly through his liner-

"I can live with it. If I hadn't had the beskar, it'd be hurting a lot less."  _ Because I'd be dead _ hung unspoken in the air between the two of you. 

"I-I'm glad you have the beskar, then." You managed to say faintly. "I'd hate to have to explain to the kid if something...happened."

"Likewise." The Mandalorian responded, his own tone troubled. "He's...he's gotten used to having you around."

The both of you stood there awkwardly, the silence stretching long. "Did you need something?" You asked finally.

The Mandalorian jolted, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be. "Uh, yes!  _ Yes _ , I was going to ask if I could borrow your...salve. Used up the last of mine on Sorgan and I haven't been able to get more." He mumbled. 

"Absolutely, definitely!" You exclaimed, hurrying to screw the lid back onto the jar. "I'll just...yep, here you go. Bacta salve." You pressed it into his hands, unable to keep from anxiously fidgeting when he didn't immediately leave. He just  _ stood _ there, staring down at you. "Was there...was there something else you needed?" You queried nervously.

"I'm not sure." He muttered cryptically, tilting his head to the side. "I...I mean, thank you. I'll bring this back." He quickly amended, tapping his fingers to his chin and then all but bolting for the ladder.

"Be  _ careful _ , you'll break a leg!" You yelled after him, certain that you imagined the husky laughter you got in reply.

…

It was much,  _ much _ later when you decided to move down the ladder and head for bed. 

You had stayed in the co-pilot chair for ages, slowly spinning back and forth while your mind replayed the way he had hauled his shirt up. It was so  _ nonchalant _ , innocent. You had been under the impression that Mandalorians had strict rules about exposure, but maybe it only applied to revealing their face? 

You could always ask, but the idea of offending him was somehow even  _ more _ repugnant now than it had been when he was threatening to give you the full carbonite treatment. 

You sighed and headed for the ladder, moving carefully when you realized the hold was pitch black. 

_ He must be asleep _ , you reasoned a split-second before the fresher door slid open and you were blinded by the brilliant light. Right as your eyes shut in reflexive response, they landed on a pile of beskar armor heaped on the floor. 

There was a  _ very _ familiar helmet sitting on top of it, the visor glaring up at you mockingly.

You heard him curse and you  _ immediately _ started apologizing, keeping your eyes shut and waving your hands wildly. "I'm sorry! I-I didn't see, I promise! The light-" 

_ This is it _ , you realized grimly. This was the end of you.

"I thought you were still up there. You startled me." He paused, yawning loudly and then continuing, "s'alright now, I turned off the light."

"You're...you're  _ sure _ it's okay to open my eyes?" You asked cautiously. 

"Hmm? Yeah, it's fine." He mumbled, and you heard the sound of fabric rubbing rapidly back and forth. "Had to clean the armor first, n' then me." His voice was so clear without the helmet. You would be lying if you said you weren't entranced by the soft gravel of it.

You snuck a peek and were simultaneously relieved and disappointed to find that you were still blind. "Shit, I got all turned around." You swore, crouching slightly and feeling your way forward. "Don't want to trip on your knightly attire and wake up the kid." A large, warm hand caught your elbow and you  _ almost _ shrieked. "Hey!  _ Warn _ me next time.  _ Maker _ , I lost years off my life from that!" You hissed, your panic intensified in no small amount by the fact that it was his actual  _ skin _ touching you, not leather gloves. 

In that moment, you felt like you were somehow responsible for breaking seventeen different rules. And you weren't entirely certain whether you were particularly contrite about it.

"Mhm."  _ He _ could apparently see fine in the darkness, or at least well enough to lead you across the hold to the space behind the pile of crates that you had claimed as your own. "This s'your stop, stowaway." He murmured sleepily. You froze when you felt his chin brush your forehead lightly,  _ stubble _ rubbing against your skin and a set of lips pressed to your hairline as he breathed, "G'night."

You managed to pull yourself together long enough to squeak out a reply of, " _ sleep tight _ ," and you proceeded to tunnel into your blankets once you were certain he had left.  _ What was  _ **_that?!_ ** you asked yourself frantically. 

That was...he was  _ human _ underneath all that armor. You had known that. 

Technically.  _ Logically _ . Your brain understood that even  _ before _ he had decided to flash the great golden expanse of his abdomen at you. So what was the issue? 

_ Had he just kissed your forehead?! _ Did that even  _ count _ as a kiss or was he just so tired that he had bumped into you accidentally? Nothing about it  _ seemed _ accidental, but he was exhausted. It  _ must _ have been a mistake, a clumsy little...accident. That's all it was. 

You were just reading too much into it.


	5. Dark Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to PTSD, and vividly vague mentions of past trauma. Stay safe!]

"The worst possible thing has finally happened." You announced, thumping your head against the empty shelf. "We're all out of the nutrient paste. Y'know, the  _ good _ one." You glanced over at the armored man, who was currently sorting through another one of his many crates. "This is the  _ end _ . I'll have to go back to aurelac mining just to eke out a living." You continued, dramatically slumping to the floor. 

You were only half-joking, of course. The variety of food  _ was _ waning, but at least there was still sustenance to be had. The  _ real _ issue was credits, or the lack thereof. Nutrient paste wouldn't buy repairs.

"No. No  _ mining _ . I need all my appendages." The Mandalorian mumbled, his mind clearly elsewhere. He roused himself after a moment, looking over at you. "It's not  _ that _ bad, we still have some reserves." He said, gesturing vaguely at the small pile of dented cans and faded-looking tubes beside him on the deck. "I'll...I'll get in touch with someone."

"It's too late for us, my metalline companion. You must...take the child…"

"You keep these antics up and I'll sell you to the Hutts." The Mandalorian teased, reaching out to squeeze your chin playfully. "Bet they'd offer me good credits for you, what with your strong back and skills with the younglings." You could hear his smile and your heart tripped a little.

"You would sell  _ me?! _ " You gasped, pretending to reel with shock. "This betrayal will not  _ stand _ . Avenge me, child!" You flung a hand out towards the baby, who stared at it for several seconds wide-eyed before proceeding to gnaw gently on your index. "There, you see that? They are swearing a blood oath to free me from your cruelty."

"Uh huh." The Mandalorian didn't sound particularly convinced, his hand still cupping your chin. For whatever reason, you got the impression that he was mulling something over in his mind. Something a little heavier than your lighthearted joking with the child.

"Are you alright?" You asked softly after a minute, putting your hand over his own. 

He started at the sound of your voice, jerking his gauntlet away like your touch had burned him. You tried not to let it get to you. It might be that he just didn't like being touched; it was entirely within his right to shy away.

"I'm...yeah." He assured you, grabbing the lip of the crate to haul himself upright with a grunt. "There's just--it's complicated. I've got an idea, I don't know…" he trailed off.

"What's the problem? Talk to me, maybe I can help."

Instead of answering, the man headed up the ladder into the cockpit. You dusted your knees off and hoisted the child, clambering up the ladder one-handed in pursuit of the armored man.

The Mandalorian had  _ apparently _ begun calculating new coordinates, the sextant whirring to life as he cycled through the charts. "We're going to see an old friend of mine." He announced from his position in the pilot's seat.

"Why do I feel like you don't mean an  _ actual _ friend?" The armored man yet again didn't deign to answer you immediately and you groaned, setting the child down on the co-pilot seat and stretching your arms out over your head. 

"He owes me a favor."

"Mm, what kind?"

"The kind that I can get payment out of." The Mandalorian said curtly.

"You don't seem to be too  _ excited _ to visit this friend of yours."

"Things have changed since the last time we worked together." His words were quiet, contemplative. "There were...a lot of jobs I did back then that I wouldn't touch now."

It hadn't occurred to you that he had fallen into bounty hunting as a  _ cleaner _ occupation. What could he have been involved in that made collecting dangerous, often violent criminals for a living seem like the better career path? Maker, you  _ wanted _ to ask, the curiosity burned at you. But if you had learned anything about the stoic man in the time that you had spent traveling together, it was that he only spoke when he saw fit to. 

"I want you and the kid in the bunk for the duration of these negotiations." He muttered after several minutes of silence. "These are rough people and I don't need any distractions."

He didn't mention Calican by name and you were grateful for that much. It stung a little that he still considered you a distraction after that tense standoff.  _ Nuisance _ . You nodded all the same, focused on the floor plating. "I understand." 

You could say that you did, anyway.

_ Fake it 'til you make it, I guess. _

...

You got the feeling that something may have gone a bit  _ funny _ in the negotiations. The Mandalorian hadn't mentioned anything about having to use his  _ own _ ship for the job.

You could hear muffled voices on the other side of the bunk's shutter, and you had departed the station ages ago. Where were you headed?

There was a sudden, hollow rattle from the outside. Beskar. He had moved quickly, for whatever reason. It was a strange comfort to know that he wasn't in the cockpit, but here in the hold keeping an eye on the individuals he was working with. Though that begged the question of who might be piloting the craft.

Something large struck the wall beside the shutter with a dull  _ boom _ , the impact making you jump.  _ What _ were they doing out there? You moved your eyes from the wall back down to the child, who had just rolled their ball to you yet again. 

Another impact, and this time there was a loud  _ beep! _ That was the lock for the retractor on the bunk hatch, which meant--

The bunk shutter slid up into the ceiling, revealing yourself and the baby sitting on the bed. You paused mid-motion, raising an imperious eyebrow at the motley crew of characters that filled the hold. 

An eternal second passed where a bald human man, a Twi'lek woman, a large Devaronian and the Mandalorian just...gawked at you.

" _ Sweetheart _ , you didn't tell me we were having guests!" You exclaimed in feigned surprise, doing your best to appear like you  _ weren't _ scrambling to figure out a solution to this problem. "I would have picked the place up if I had known!"

_ Fake it 'til you make it, right? _

The Mandalorian stayed stock-still as you climbed out of the bunk, the child secure in your arms. "I'm  _ so _ sorry about the state of the hold, everyone." You apologized profusely with a bow, "it's difficult to keep everything tidy. Little ones, you know how they are!" The hulking Devaronian who was half-in, half-out of the refresher appeared downright flummoxed when you brushed past him to stand by the Mandalorian, while the bald man across the way quickly adopted a calculating look. 

"Is this  _ yours _ , Mando? Did you two make this?" He asked, grinning broadly as he got to his feet. "Look at you! Look at those ears!" He chuckled, moving in to fawn over said ears on the child. "Can I hold him?"

"I'd really rather you-" In a clean jerk of movement, he swept the baby out of your arms. "-Didn't." You finished, less scared and more irritated now. Just who did this guy think he was?!

The Twi'lek woman, who had been silent up until this point, started to giggle quietly to herself. The noise set your teeth on edge, to say nothing of the openly hostile look she was giving the Mandalorian. "I didn't take you for the  _ type _ , Mando." She crooned, a small knife winding its way back and forth between her deft fingers. "Maybe that code of yours has made you soft." You knew an insult when you heard it, and you wondered what history the Mandalorian might share with her to warrant such a caustic reaction.

You could  _ feel _ the tension rolling off of the Mandalorian in waves while the bald man toyed with the child. You took in the bracer of pistols he wore and your stomach twisted with nerves. The last thing you needed was  _ more _ blasters near the child. "Me, I could never really get into the idea of havin' kids. Didn't have the temperament for it." The man remarked, "patience, y'know."

The baby's face scrunched up threateningly, heralding a deafening wail of distress. "Oh, quick, let me see him, he's going to pitch a fit." You said hurriedly.

No sooner had you stepped forward to take the child back (possibly by force) than an unfamiliar mechanical voice announced, " _ dropping out of hyperspace...now _ ."

You barely managed to snatch the baby away from the bald man before everyone in the hold was thrown off their feet, the whole ship rolling under the strain of the abrupt change in navigation. 

" _ Commencing final approach...now _ ."

You stayed where you landed and clutched the child tight to your chest, ducking your head in case some of the cargo pulled loose. The ship banked  _ hard _ and your body slid sideways on the floor.

" _ Cloaking signal...now _ ."

Metal hit the deck on either side of you with a stereo  _ clang! _ , making the child start to bawl but preventing you from sliding any further. An armored thigh plowed roughly between your legs and your eyes sprang open on reflex, sighing in relief when you were greeted with the familiar sight of the Mandalorian's visor. "Don't move." He muttered as the ship continued to pitch and sway.

You nodded, more than content to stay exactly where you were. His body caged in your own, solidly-armored form providing shelter for both you and the child. "Thank you." You breathed.

He merely shrugged in reply.

" _ Engaging coupling...now _ ." The voice intoned overhead. The  _ Crest _ plummeted and the Mandalorian swore under his breath, bracing himself on his forearms as his body was pushed down against your own from the force of the drop. The ship finally came to a stop with a rough shudder that made your teeth rattle in your skull. 

" _ Coupling confirmed. We are down _ . _ And relax. Commence extraction now _ ."

The Mandalorian propped himself up with one arm, curling his other protectively around you and the squalling child. "Everyone alright?" He rasped after a few seconds had passed. "Status report."

"That useless droid didn't even give us a proper countdown!" The Twi'lek spat, getting shakily to her feet.

"It's a  _ droid _ , Xi'an. Y' expect too much. Now, are you two gonna' be able to be friends during this or am I gonna' have to put you in time out?" The bald man inquired, gesturing between the Mandalorian and the Devaronian. " _ Remember _ Burg, Mando let us use his ship."

"Al- _ right _ Mayfeld." The large man groused, struggling to extract himself from the refresher. "But you had better shut up that baby before I make it into a snack."

Your body tensed at his threat and you heard the Mandalorian chamber a round for his flamethrower, the  _ click _ deafeningly loud in the relative quiet of the hold. 

" _ Easy _ , easy. Burg, you gotta' be  _ respectful _ ." The bald man stressed the word, shooting you an apologetic grimace. "Flyin' makes him anxious."

"Making me anxious too." You managed to get out, using the hem of your tunic to mop some of the tears off of the kid's face. They had faded into sniffling and snorting, worn out from the scare and subsequent bumpy ride. You moved to sit up and the Mandalorian shifted back onto his haunches, one hand on your shoulder. You patted his hand and he squeezed gently before he rose to stand once more.

Mayfeld called up the ladder, "Z, are you sure they can't see us?"

" _ The  _ Razor Crest _ is scrambling our signature, and I am inside the prison system. It's impressive that this gunship had survived the Empire without being impounded _ ." The automated voice replied from the cockpit.

"Alright we got a job to do. Mando! You're up." The bald man ordered, gesturing at the floor port.

You saw the brief hesitation where the Mandalorian considered  _ not _ obeying, but then he heaved a sigh and started rummaging around for something in one of the many crates.

"So, he never takes that thing off?" Mayfeld asked curiously as the Mandalorian crouched to work on the hatch encryption.

"Never. And I wouldn't ask him to." You replied firmly, bouncing the still-whimpering child on your hip. 

"You don't know his name  _ or _ what he looks like, and you're bumpin' uglies with him?" Mayfeld's incredulous tone made you wish the ground would swallow you. "That's nuts."

"I know  _ him _ . That's really what's important in a relationship, isn't it?" You posited cooly, spying the Mandalorian squaring his shoulders underneath his cloak. Whether he did it consciously or not, it  _ was _ a little humorous to see someone as stoic as he was blatantly preening. "Knowing a person has always been about  _ way _ more than just knowing their name or what they look like. Knowing a person is…" You paused thoughtfully, keenly aware of the daggers Xi'an was glaring at you. "Well, there's just more to it that a lot of people don't seem to understand."

"Oh you'll fit  _ right _ in with their merry little band of Creed-followers." The Twi'lek woman murmured, her tone sarcastic as she enquired, "I suppose you'll be getting your helmet fitted shortly?"

"Why do you think I'm doing this job in the first place?" The Mandalorian growled. No one was caught more off-guard than you, and you  _ barely _ managed to stop yourself from shooting Xi'an a smug smile. "Beskar isn't cheap." He continued, free hand reaching back to wrap carefully around your ankle. "Plus, I'd have to surrender a piece of  _ my _ beskar to be smelted in with their new helmet's beskar." He tapped his scored breastplate with the crypto device, which carried on beeping. "Need a  _ lot _ more wear and tear than this before I can justify that level of commitment."

It was a legitimate struggle to keep from laughing out loud at Mayfeld's continued expression of bewilderment. "You Mandalorian guys are even more ridiculous than I thought." He muttered as the crypto pinged.

The hatch slid open with a soft click, and the Mandalorian got back to his feet to coil and stow the cabled device. 

After some light bickering amongst the group, Mayfeld  _ graciously _ agreed to go first. "You better hang onto this one, Mando." He joked, whacking a hand into the armored man's pauldron and then gesturing up and down at you. "Otherwise, I may just steal 'em for myself. If they're crazy enough to get freaky with you, maybe they'll settle for a guy who's a little more... _ normal _ ." The smile he directed at you didn't reach his eyes, all teeth like a hungry animal.

You chose to heroically ignore his attempt at teasing you  _ or _ inciting wrath in your 'partner'. "Stay safe, love." You crooned sweetly, deliberately attempting to be as saccharine as possible while you perched up on your tiptoes to touch your forehead to the Mandalorian's helm.

His hand found your own, fingers twining clumsily together. "You too," he hesitated before gruffly mumbling, " _ love _ ." 

Xi'an followed after Mayfeld (making a gagging noise at the Mandalorian as she went), and then Burg dropped like a brick into the ship below. That was the last of his team departed through the hatch and yet he still stood there, just  _ staring _ down at you.

"Was that too mu-" you began to whisper, only to have him cut you off by shoving you bodily against the wall. You started to stammer out another apology but ended up falling silent when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. One large hand cradled the back of your neck while the other gripped your tunic at the small of your back, and he leaned down to touch his helm to the top of the child's head.

The embrace reeked of a strangely-poignant possessiveness that had your heart aching, causing you to almost  _ mourn _ the loss of him when his hold loosened. "I'm so damn sorry." He muttered, releasing you fully and turning towards the hatch.

You caught his hand before he could leave. "H-Hey, I meant what I said." You mumbled, half-hoping he didn't hear you. His head jerked to the side to look at you and your confidence waned considerably under his expressionless gaze, making you drop your eyes to the floor. "Y'know, um, stay safe." You chickened out. Really,  _ how _ could you have thought you would get away with telling him something like that? Seconds before he headed off to do something he had  _ clear _ reservations about doing?

He was still for several seconds before he shook his head and swung himself down to the ladder. "Stay in the bunk." He instructed, and then he too was gone.

…

Time passed at a slow crawl while you were sequestered in the bunk space. You did your best to keep the child occupied and quiet, astonishing them via a cat's cradle made from your boot laces.

You thanked the stars again and again that the kid hadn't been hurt when the ship landed, your hip still aching from how rough it had been for you. At the same time you staunchly avoided musing on the Mandalorian's body over your own, how quickly he had moved to protect you. It didn't bear thinking about. Just like his embrace before he had left, solid beskar molding to the curves of your body. 

Didn't mean anything. He was making certain the child was safe. If you were safe as well, it was strictly by proxy.

You shook your head at your silly thoughts, then stopped abruptly when you heard footsteps above you. You hushed the baby, moving them a little further back in the bunk as those footsteps shifted to impacts on the metal ladder. 

_ Stay in the bunk _ . The Mandalorian's words echoed in your ears and you swallowed hard.  **_Stay in the bunk_ ** _ , but what if someone comes for me while you're gone? What then? _

You heard someone fumbling with the keypad and you held your breath, hoping against hope that  _ whoever _ was on the other side of the door wouldn't be able to figure out the combination.  _ Please, please, just this once _ . But despite your fervent prayers, you saw the shutter begin to rise for the second time that day.

It was a compound-eyed droid. The aforementioned Z, if you had to guess. They stood in front of you, head cocked slightly to the side as if to study you. "Curious." They mused flatly. Then, they raised their rifle. 

Frantically, you scrambled for a plan. You weren't fast enough to outmaneuver a droid in a shootout. You didn't even have a blaster! Your knife was still strapped to your leg, precious little good it did you there. 

Cold reality dawned on you, that this...this could be it. The baby whined warily and you shifted your body, bracing your arm on the wall and doing your best to be a human shield for the child. "It'll be alright, sweetheart." You whispered to them, swallowing your panic to reassure them as best as you could. "I won't let them hurt you."

You heard a whir of servos and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, unable to keep from cringing at the harsh report of the rifle. It sounded even louder in the cramped space. You waited for the pain, even though you had felt no blaster bolt impact. You assumed you were already in shock, ears ringing with the echoes of the gun.

Instead, a leather-gloved hand seized your arm, dragging you and the child out of the bunk space. You covered the baby's head, tucking them into the crook of your arm in an effort to protect them from the next attack. "No!" You cried, trying to struggle out of the person's grip so you could grab your knife. " _ No!  _ Let me  _ go _ , or I'll-!" 

Metal met your shoulder and you heard a ragged exhale of, " _ shit _ ." At the familiar sound of that modulated voice, you dared to open your eyes. 

The droid was on the floor, a hole blown in its headgear. Most of your field of vision was taken up by a large form clad in beskar, whose forehead was resting on your shoulder. 

"Oh." You said softly, concerned when you felt him sag against you. His other forearm hit the wall above your head, taking some of his not-insubstantial weight off of you.

There was a wound between his breastplate and pauldron, still slowly trickling blood onto his flight suit. "I don't have much time." He said hoarsely. "Have to get that Twi' back so I get paid. Qin."

"Tell me what you need from me." Bold offer, when your legs still felt like gelatin. The fingers of your free hand grappled the sleeve of his flight suit, holding it tightly. Maker, you had thought you were dead. 

Relief and dread rushed through you in equal parts when he said, "Qin's out cold for the time being. Need you to stay in the bunk until I come get you." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "Please."

"When this is all over, I'm not going anywhere  _ near _ that bunk ever again." You threatened weakly.

"That's fine." He nodded against your shoulder. "Just a little while longer. Qin is getting me triple from Ran."

"We'll  _ see _ about that." You huffed. He straightened up, then leaned in to press his helmet to your forehead. You closed your eyes, not able to handle being studied at that moment. "I-I thought it was going to kill the-"

"I know." The Mandalorian breathed. "I'm sorry."

"I was so scared." You admitted, your voice cracking. The hold you had on his suit tightened even further. "M' sorry, you're the one who's hurt but I can't seem to get myself together." You shook your head with a sad little laugh, moving to pull away. 

The armored man kept you where you were though, his hands framing your shoulders. "I  _ promise _ . We'll be safe once I deliver that Twi' to Ran, at least for a little while." He drew his thumb down the center of his breastplate, then tapped the chin of his helm with two fingers. "Promise."

"I'll hold you to it." His helmet hung mere inches from your face, and you stood on your tiptoes to press your forehead to his once more. "Do what you need to do. We'll be here." You promised, mustering up a smile. "Stay safe."

His hand wrapped around your wrist, squeezing for a second. "Wait for me. This won't take long."

…

In spite of your trepidation you ended up dozing off with the words to the lullaby on your lips, thoroughly worn out from your trying day. The child was glued to your side, snoring quietly even as you drifted in and out of consciousness. 

Thinking back, all you could recall was hearing the ramp hiss open, the hollow echo of voices in a large hangar space. After that, just the smooth hum of hyperspace travel.

When the Mandalorian  _ finally _ came to retrieve you, even the unflappably stoic bounty hunter seemed like he had gone through the wringer. His steps were unsure, and he clung to a cargo net despite the level deck. "Need your help." He said thickly once you had swung your legs out of the bunk space. 

Instantly awake at those words, you left the child to nap peacefully and followed the armored man back up the ladder to the cockpit. There, he all but fell into the pilot seat. 

"Something's wrong." He muttered. "It's just a cut, but something…" He trailed off, shaking himself after a moment. "Can't focus."

"What do you need me to do?" You asked.

"Hands aren't steady. Need...need to get the beskar off. Peel the suit. Fix the damage." He sounded breathless, like he was rushing to force the words out. 

"You have to walk me through this, okay? I won't touch anywhere you don't want me to touch, but I need your help." 

"Just-" He cut himself off with a low groan. " _ Gods _ , my head. That rancor-sized bastard broke every knob in that stupid control room off with my helmet."

"Hey." You murmured, placing a careful hand on top of his own. "Stay with me."

"Right. Important." His helmet rolled back for a moment. " _ Dammit _ , come on." He snapped in frustration, shaking his head. Fumbling fingers unlatched his beskar breastplate, the metal clicking softly as he pulled it from its gription mount. 

Next came the mount straps for his pauldrons, and  _ here _ was where he really needed some help. The latches were worn to a smooth bronze patina, sliding out from beneath his shaky hands again and again. You carefully placed your fingers around his own, guiding him through undoing the simple fasteners before you tugged his pauldrons free. The harness slowly flopped forward, then landed on the floor with a muffled  _ clunk _ . 

He exhaled hard and started dragging at the upper zippers of his flight suit, quickly getting them caught for his trouble. "Sweetheart, hang on." The endearment slipped out automatically, your mind already focused on this next insurmountable task. "Let me do this for you, okay?"

He lolled his head against his shoulder silently, dropping his hands to rest on his thighs. You stepped closer in between his legs and then slowly worked free the jam he had created for himself.

One of the Mandalorian's hands suddenly flew up, grabbing your sleeve. "Didn't kill anyone." He slurred, almost panicky. "I swear. It was all droids, and the one guy...Xi'an killed him, not me, I t-tried to talk him down, and Xi'an..." 

"I believe you." You assured him, gently patting his hand. "It's over now, okay?"

"Xi'an killed him, I just…" He trailed off, his head falling forward to rest on his chest. He might have been watching you fight with the zipper. "Told Mayfeld to ask about Alzoc Three, that  _ bitch _ ." He muttered, "like it was a joke. Like it was a  _ joke _ . Alzoc Three was a  _ nightmare _ , Ran almost  _ died _ , I couldn't get the  _ klesir _ ...the smell…" He actually retched, "Burning, and I did what I had to but…they all had so many eyes, and it was so dark--"

"Whoa, hey. What are you even talking about?" You interrupted him, more than a little concerned. It wasn't like him to rattle off on such a wild tangent,  _ frantic _ .

" _ Mines _ , we were sent into the mines blind. They didn't  _ tell us _ about the T-Talz." He rambled on like you hadn't said anything, gesturing with one hand. "Dark. Cold. Talz, enslaved, mining...their whole lives,  _ dying _ in those pits and it  _ reeked _ like hatred." 

Your hands went still on his zipper when his voice cracked. He sounded seconds from weeping, his next words punching indelicate through the modulator.

"Imps shove the young ones into the pits. Say their fur will cushion the fall. I landed in a pile of bodies." He breathed. "So many little ones. Tiny, tiny...tiny bodies, and the  _ klesir _ , the death-rot, I-I--"

You abandoned the fight with his zipper to shift forward, mindful of his wound as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His helmet dug into your collarbone and you laid your cheek on top of it, feeling his shoulders tremble slightly. "You're not there anymore." You whispered, cradling the back of his helmet like you did for the child's head.

"It's s-so dark…" He mumbled brokenly into your tunic. "Came at me with a rock crusher and I couldn't--I couldn't...oh  _ gods _ ..."

"Shh, sweetheart." You shifted your hand lower, resting your fingers tentatively against the exposed skin on the back of his neck. He felt fever-hot, the area clammy and damp with sweat. "It's alright now. You're here with me. Breathe, okay? Just keep your face there and focus on breathing. We'll get through this together."

"Did that bitch  _ poison _ me?" The Mandalorian half-sobbed, grasping desperately at your arms. "I can't keep my eyes open. Can't...can't keep them open...g-gods, it's  _ so _ dark…"

"Love, look at me." You coaxed him, holding the sides of his helmet steady. "You're on your ship. The child is safe.  _ You're _ safe."

"Are you sure?" He asked, the uncertainty in his voice breaking your heart. 

_ Fake it 'til you make it _ .

"I promise." 

"The kid-"

"They're asleep in the bunk right now. Do you want me to get them?"

"No, no." He waved the suggestion off, nearly hitting you with the haphazard motion. "S'okay. I believe you." His hands dropped to rest on your tunic over your hips, fingers clenching tight in the fabric as if he was trying to ground himself with your presence.

With a little creative positioning and more than a few swears, you managed to get the flight suit peeled down to his elbows without dislodging his helmet. The liner shirt you resorted to shoving up until it was out of the way, finally getting a good look at the damage. 

He was  _ littered _ in bruises. The angry contusion from that sniper bolt had mercifully faded, but in its place bloomed a veritable forest of new, smaller marks. Rounding out all these fresh acquisitions was the stab wound. It wasn't particularly  _ large _ , though it sank deep into the tissue that connected his shoulder to his chest. If it didn't heal properly, it might impede his movement. 

A strange, bluish residue darkened the dried blood at the edges of the wound. Your eyes narrowed. "Do you have an anti-tox kit? There's some crud here I don't like the look of."

"Blue?" When you nodded he reached for his belt, finally tugging free a small vial from a side loop. "Bathe area with half." He instructed, his breathing ragged again. The minute effort had clearly worn him out, which was incredibly worrisome. 

You nodded, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. "I need you to lie down, okay? Otherwise this will just run off." 

The bleary Mandalorian gamely left the chair and dropped onto the floor, his normally-smooth motions reduced to something resembling clumsy puppeteering. You rummaged through the rear compartments for one of your clean rags and a bacta patch. This was no simple mark from a gaudy belt buckle, after all.

"I can't b-believe she poisoned me." He remarked faintly, sounding indignant. "What the hell did I ever do t'  _ her? _ "

"Maybe you were just too devastatingly handsome. She couldn't take it when you left." You suggested dryly, carefully tipping half of the vial's neon purple contents onto the open wound. 

The Mandalorian hissed out a pained laugh, his whole body tensing briefly before relaxing again. " _ Shit _ , that mus' be it." He slurred. "Crazy Twi' was always stabbin' me. Wanted t' get m...me outta' th' beskar." He brushed his knuckles against your cheek. "Not like you. Y' always tellin' me t...to...to stay safe. Like you'd be sad 'f I got hurt." 

You longed for a beskar steel helmet at that moment, mentally cursing your cheeks for flushing as hot as they did. This wasn't the  _ time! _ He was still soaked with sweat, his shoulder jumping erratically under your touch. It was difficult  _ not _ to notice the way his chest was heaving, the rise and fall of battered olive skin almost hypnotic. This was only the second time you had seen him in such a state of undress and, despite how terrible the current situation was, you still treasured this display of the trust that he placed in you. Just to ask for your help in general-! "Of course I'd be sad." You said quietly, trying to focus on smoothing the patch over the edges of the wound.

His thumb traced your jawline. "Really?" He asked, sounding somewhere between incredulous and seconds from passing out. "S'nice.  _ You're  _ nice. Nice t' look at, too.  _ Mesh'la _ . Xi'an was jealous." He mumbled. You could  _ hear _ his smile; he was  _ gloating _ , the smug bastard. Leave it to a man who had been  _ poisoned _ to gloat about an old flame being petty! "Jeal-o-us…" He tapped your nose, and then his hand flopped to the floor.

You had to sit back on your haunches, exhaling hard once you heard his breathing even out. This day was just getting stranger and stranger!  _ Nice to look at _ , he had said.  _ Xi'an was jealous _ . Maker, were you still blushing?! 

You shook your head, for once not bothering to fight back your fond smile. "She sure was, wasn't she." You whispered sadly, daring to caress the side of his helmet.

You didn't want to leave him alone while he 'sweat out' the poison in case something went wrong, so you chose to curl up in the secondary co-pilot chair and keep him under observation. After several minutes, a hand fumbled up to grab your own. "H-ey." He breathed. "St…Stay here. Don' leave, okay?" 

"I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere." You assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

"Can you...sing me th...that song. The one--the one...th' one the kid likes?" He turned his head slowly to look up at you, the side of his helm hitting the floor with a solid  _ thud _ . "Keeps the dark...keeps th' dark outta' my helmet."

"Yeah, absolutely. Whatever you need." He squeezed your hand, which you assumed was his way of saying  _ thank you _ . You then slid off of the seat and back onto the floor, carefully lifting his head so you could lay it in your lap. 

He groaned at the motion and you apologized softly, stroking your fingers down the front of his helm like you did for the kid. You got a quiet sigh out of that. His hand shifted over to pet your thigh, and you felt his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

" _ Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you… _ " you sang, deliberately keeping your volume as low as you could manage.

The Mandalorian hummed along with the tune off-key and the sound made your fond smile return, despite your best efforts.

" _ But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me… _ " 

…

You were uncertain of when you had fallen asleep, only knowing that your own dreams were far from restful. Fraught with images of dark pits and frenzied clawing through the void, the muted horror of an undefinable stench clinging to your body as you searched for him...

" _ My f-f-friend, if you are receiving this... _ " 

The staticky voice startled you from your nightmares and you gazed blearily up at the Mandalorian's back. Somehow you had ended up back in the co-pilot chair. When…?

He appeared to be listening to a message, his form hunched over slightly so you couldn't see the individual's holo on the control panel. " _...means you are alive. You may be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even _ ." 

Your brow furrowed as the Mandalorian scoffed, shaking his head.

" _...lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. _ "

_ Ex-Imperial? _ You were  _ wide _ awake now. You tucked your legs beneath the blanket covering you, huddling yourself up tight before you realized that it was actually his cape. He must have draped it over you after he woke up from his post-poison fainting spell.

The message rattled on, " _ They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy but we cannot get close enough to take him out. _ "

" _ Osi'kyr _ ." The Mandalorian hissed through his teeth, scooping his gription harness up off the floor and settling it back on his shoulders. "Of course not, of  _ course _ ." The grit in his words was unfamiliar,  _ violent _ . You remembered what he had said about not touching  _ certain _ jobs anymore; frantic, guilty rambling about Alzoc Three,  _ dark pits _ . What else had he done before bounty hunting?

" _ If you would consider one last commission, I would very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize. _ " His shoulders snapped tight. " _ So here is my proposition: return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members for protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. _ "

The Mandalorian was shaking his head again, knuckles rhythmically striking the edge of the control panel. He was  _ angry _ . His presence seemed to fill the cockpit, robbing the space of everything except the silent fury he radiated. Like when he had been staring down Calican, the mudhorn about to charge.

" _ If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild. For a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. _ " Weirdly, the Mandalorian went dead still at that. The wording obviously had some kind of heavy impact on him. " _ I await your arrival with optimism _ ."

"I'll bet you fucking do,  _ you- _ " The Mandalorian seethed, reaching for his breastplate and then pausing when he saw you were awake. He continued the motion after a moment, clearing his throat. "We're headed back to Sorgan." He enunciated calmly, affixing the plate to his harness.

"Why?" You inquired, a little wary. Gone was the slur in his voice, the clumsy movements he had displayed only a few hours back.  _ Also _ gone was his rage. He was somehow even more closed off than before, his body language bordering on unreadable.

"I'm going to need backup."


	6. Go Alone

"So…" you began, swinging your legs back and forth nonchalantly from your customary spot in the co-pilot seat.

"If you have something to ask, then ask." The Mandalorian replied curtly.

Well  _ that _ was encouraging. "I know it's none of my business, but I was...um, you and Xi'an, did you guys ever…" You trailed off, the reflection of your face in the back of his helmet reminding you anew of the prudence of silence. "You know what, f-forget I even asked, I'm sorry, I know I-"

"We did not." He interjected stiffly.

"Oh!" You hated the relief that bled into your voice, over-certain that he had picked up on it. "But...I mean, the way that she-"

"Ran asked some... _ things _ of me to, er, maintain the status quo on the team when we operated together. Xi'an was a...a loose cannon, too useful and dangerous to be left to her own devices." The bounty hunter explained. "She enjoys the hunt. So I was the unattainable quarry."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure what to make of  _ that _ . "She... _ hunted _ ...you?"

"Not literally. She'd be dead." He said flatly. "Figuratively."

"But you guys didn't like...y'know." You barely refrained from making some weird, suggestive gestures. You were relatively certain  _ that _ would get you slabbed immediately, despite his assurances to the contrary.

He shrugged. "Nope. Wasn't interested in the compromises she offered, and she, even if she didn't know it, preferred the mystery over the man." His voice was soft. 

You wondered if he had  _ wanted _ her to know him.  _ Really _ know him. Asking that would be incredibly invasive though, even more so than you had been already, so you bit back the query in lieu of pretending to check the munitions terminal.

"Why?" 

You jumped at his question, even though he hadn't been overly loud or sharp. "I uh-! I just...I was just curious, that's all." You blustered, rushing to unbuckle the seat harness. "Sorry, excuse me, I hear the-"

He reached back and touched your wrist, halting you mid-flight. He didn't say anything. Hell, he didn't even  _ turn _ in the seat. 

His fingers slowly wrapped around your wrist, squeezed once, and then he released you. 

Confused, flushed, your heart hammering in your throat, you escaped down the ladder into the sanctuary of the hold. 

Once there you sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest after a moment. Your face felt like it was on fire.  _ What was  _ **_that?!_ ** you asked yourself in a panic, your hands curling into tight fists over your knees. Was that his way of chastising you for being so nosy? Or was it something a little more difficult to define?

You could still feel the weight of his armored hand on your wrist, the gentleness of the squeeze that belied the raw strength he had displayed numerous times.

The child yawned awake in their bassinet and you lunged upright, more than ready for the distraction.

…

" _ Oh baby you're the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right _ ." You began to sing several hours later, poking the frowning child and grinning when they burst into giggles. " _ And wherever you are and wherever you go, there's always gonna' be some light. But I gotta' get out, I gotta' break out now, before the final crack of dawn. _ "

You scooped the kid up, swaying them back and forth in time with your singing.

" _ So we gotta' make the most of our one night together, cuz' when it's over, you know, we'll both be so alone… _ " You dipped the child, laughing through the chorus as they squealed and waved their tiny hands in glee. " _ Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes! When the night is over, like a bat out of hell, I'll be gone, gone, gone. Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes! _ "

You paused, posing dramatically and then continuing your madcap choreography with the child. They were clearly enjoying themselves, babbling along as you belted out the next part of the song and twirled through the hold.

" _But when the day is done, and the sun goes down, and the moonlight's shining through...then, like a sinner before the gates of Heaven, I'll come crawling on back to you…_ " You gently tweaked the baby's nose, " _you,_ _youuuuu_ -" 

You spun around while taking a deep breath to carry on with the next verse, only to be met with the featureless stare of one Mandalorian bounty hunter. Your tune abruptly ended with a sharp  _ hurk _ .

"You do cantina shows?" He asked casually after you had turned every shade of red imaginable. "You and the kid would be a hell of a performance." He slung one ankle over the other and leaned against the wall. "Came down to tell you that we're about ten minutes out from Sorgan."

"H-How long…" you trailed off, not sure if you  _ really _ wanted to know. 

"Chorus." He answered the unfinished question. 

"Good. Great. Wonderful." You ducked your face to blow a raspberry on the child's cheek, using the time to effectively hide.  _ Maker _ , this was so embarrassing!

"Was about to join in, but I prefer to leave singing and dancing to the professionals." He shrugged. "Singing is easier with a group of people who  _ also _ wear armor and can't carry a tune to save their lives."

"You're not funny." You replied weakly.

"You sure about that, stowaway?"

"Positive. Unless you mean funny-looking."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "That cuts deep." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back slightly, giving you the impression that he was studying you. "I've set up a rendezvous location with Dune. Hopefully, I'll be there and back by tomorrow morning."

"Oh! She agreed?" You exclaimed, more than a little surprised.

"All I had to do was tell her the Imps were involved and she was chompin' at the bit." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "That being said, I'm gonna' take the kid with me and have you mind the ship."

"W...What?" You asked, uncertain if you had heard him correctly. 

"Look, it makes sense this way. Tracking fobs will be on the child. If I have him with me, both myself and Cara can keep him safe. Meanwhile, you have the ship primed and ready for takeoff. The failsafe."

"But…"

"You have to see it the way I do. If someone came after you and the kid while I was gone-" He cleared his throat. "I don't want to consider the outcome. So I'll bring him with me."

"No, I get it." You said shortly, moving past him to secure the child in their bassinet for the impending landing. They pouted, seeming upset that their playtime had come to such a sudden end. "I know, little one. We'll have more fun later. I promise." You whispered.

"Please don't be angry." The armored man sighed.

"I'm not  _ angry _ ." You retorted, "I'm...I'm peeved."

"Sounds kind of like you're angry." 

"Well that just...shows how much  _ you _ know." You grumbled, latching onto the ladder and hauling yourself up into the cockpit (theoretically to escape from the bounty hunter). But of course, he followed.  _ It  _ **_is_ ** _ his ship, after all _ , you reasoned begrudgingly.

With the two of you standing awkwardly in the cockpit, it was more than a little cramped. The Mandalorian shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want anything to happen. To  _ either _ of you." He sounded tired. "Whether you like it or not, the kid's a magnet for trouble. And out of the two of us, I'm the better fighter."

"I know that." You whispered, staring at the floor.

"I'm not... _ look _ , I know you care about him just as much as I do. Probably more. I barely remember blowing a hole in that droid and just  _ praying _ that I shot it before it shot you." He muttered. "The idea of something happening to y--to that little womp rat is...dammit, I don't  _ know _ . Maybe Xi'an was right. Maybe the Creed  _ has _ made me soft." His tone was more frustrated now.

"I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

He huffed incredulously. "In my line of work?"

"Well, you  _ may _ need to get new business chits." You allowed. "Ones that say things like 'bounty hunter, father of one'." 

He took your hands in his own, ignoring your pointed ribbing in favor of staring down at you. "I'll keep him safe." He assured you.

"You…" You shook your head, and then dropped your forehead to rest on his breastplate. "You had  _ better _ ." You whispered harshly.

The drive system beeped rapidly, signaling that the  _ Crest _ was preparing to drop out of hyperspace. 

Which it did immediately. 

With extreme prejudice. 

You lost your balance and stumbled bodily into the Mandalorian, who lost his own footing and met the rear cockpit wall with a resounding clatter of beskar. He quickly shifted himself to press your back to the flat surface, his knees bent slightly to keep his balance and arms holding you steady while the ship's trajectory smoothed out. 

"You alright?" He finally asked, sounding a little breathless. He hadn't let go of you yet, probably waiting to make certain you were secure.

"Yeah, are you?" You responded in kind, worriedly looking up at him. "I hit you pretty hard, I'm sorry."

He swallowed audibly, taking an inordinate amount of time to reply, "I--I'm fine." 

"I guess this means it's time to get ready."

"Yeah." The Mandalorian nodded. Something strange lingered in the way he had his head bent low and slightly to the side, how soft his voice was. It settled into the pit of your stomach, leaving you tongue-tied in his arms. 

Early morning sunlight poured through the cockpit's transparent shielding, warming the steely blue of his armor to a fiery bronze.  _ What would it be like to kiss him? _ The thought skittered through your mind and you felt a rush of shame, averting your eyes out of the nonsensical fear that he might be able to read your thoughts. Was it wrong to wonder about something like that if the object of the fantasy was a Mandalorian? 

"You...you can let go of me now." You pointed out quietly after several seconds. "I think we've evened out."

"Oh!" He exhaled sharply, scrambling to remove his hands. He bumped his helmet into your chin in his rush, flinching when you yelped in pain. "Shit, shit, hang on." He cupped your face, carefully framing your jaw so he could examine your mouth. "I'm sorry, that'll probably bruise." He said ruefully. 

"I'll be okay. Serves me right for treating you like a landing pad." You tried to joke, waving off his concern.

His thumb swept carefully beneath your split lower lip, the motion achingly cautious. "You're bleeding." He murmured, following it with another quiet, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'll be fine." You answered just as quietly. "It was an accident."

"I know, I just...I'll go get something for that."

…

A comlink was dropped into your waiting palm, and then the Mandalorian tapped the side of his helmet. "That's rigged to my in-ear. Just be careful with the talk button, it sticks sometimes."

"Of course, yeah." You said absently, closing your fingers around the small tube. 

"You're not listening." He observed, his shoulders sagging a little in resignation.

"N-No, I totally am!" You protested.

"You're concerned."

"...well, yes."

"Don't be." His helmet pressed to your forehead.

"You know, as much as you want to be an infallible constant or some... _ untouchable _ warrior, you're not." You closed your eyes. "I'm scared because things seem to be getting tighter and tighter. Like a noose." There it was. The honest truth. The low-lying panic that had your stomach in knots.

"That's the plan, yes." He stated ever-so-helpfully. His hands hovered warily for a second before gripping your shoulders. "Nothing will go wrong. And even if it does, I've gotten out of worse scrapes than some Imps trying to kill me." Maker, he  _ might _ be the least capable person alive when it came to the task of reassuring someone.

"Is it so bad of me to not want you to have to get out of it in the first place?" You retorted. 

"No, of course not." He replied, sounding a little confused. "But this is how it's always been."

"I  _ know _ . I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm being dumb again." You sighed. "Don't mind me."

He shook his head, then tipped it to the side. "You're not being  _ dumb _ ," He chastised, the tone of his voice strangely gentle again. "You're being careful. It's not your fault that I fight like I don't have anything to lose in nearly every situation." He hesitated for a moment. "It's...good of you to remind me. Makes me remember that I have others depending on me now." 

The smile was evident in his voice, and you felt your face light up despite your best efforts to maintain a neutral expression. "Well, good! You'd better stay safe, then. Promise me you will?"

The Mandalorian drew his thumb down the center of his breastplate, then tapped his fingers twice against his chin. "I promise." He said solemnly.

"What does that actually mean?" You asked curiously, gesturing at his chest.

" _ Thought in heart _ ," He repeated the motion, " _ said with mouth _ . Two taps with two fingers on chin to indicate solid, rigid. Firm like beskar." You pulled your thumb down your chest and then tapped your chin in an approximation of his own gesture. He chuckled, moving forward and folding your fingers a little differently. "Just the  _ first _ two of your hand. Index and middle. Trigger fingers." 

"D-Do you guys have other signs?" You queried, trying valiantly to hide how his touch had made your breath shudder.

"We wear helmets." He replied bluntly. "A lot of times we have to rely on gestures or body language instead of expressions." After a moment's pause he deadpanned, "this is the Way."

"Like what?"

He touched his hand to the side of his head, then fanned his fingers out. " _ Aru'e _ , enemy ahead, indicate how many with your fingers." He instructed, "So if there's three, you tuck your pinky, like this."

"What about this one?" You attempted to mimic the motion you had seen him direct at the child many times, startled when you heard him inhale roughly.

When he finally answered, his voice had a strange rasp to it. " _ Ad'ika _ . Little one, or Foundling. Start by pointing with two fingers. Again, solid, rigid, then one finger, for youth. Drag the thumb up from the corner of your mouth, for smile or joy, keep your hand open to indicate happiness." 

You clumsily tried to follow along, running through the gestures a few times until you didn't mix them up. Your heart squeezed in your chest as you realized that he had been silently referring to the child as a Foundling, as  _ his _ Foundling. Possibly this entire time.

"Very good." He praised, thumping his armored knuckles against your own. "But just wait until we get to the difficult ones."

"How difficult are we talking?"

"You have  _ shaadlar _ and  _ nari _ , both of which mean move, but only one of them means  _ to _ move. The other means  _ move _ , just in general. So the gesture is like a shove, you put your whole arm into it like this…"

...

After he and the child left, you did your best to occupy yourself with some light repair work. The day stretched on like an interminable expanse, boredom and wariness combined to settle like a block of beskar in your stomach. 

You tried not to think about it, you really did. You didn't so much as  _ touch _ the comlink. You kept yourself busy by sweeping out the hold, restacking and shoving the numerous crates into some semblance of order that wouldn't topple onto you in an emergency. Hell, you even used the cargo nets to actually  _ secure the cargo _ . What was the world coming to?

Rain started to fall as the sun set, clouds tinted pink and orange from the fading rays. You squinted up at the sky and heaved a sigh, loathe to close yourself up in the  _ Razor Crest _ but not incredibly eager to get rained on. 

You cast one last glance out towards the darkening woods as you waited for the hatch to close, shaking your head ruefully at your own behavior. This was  _ pitiful _ .

You then proceeded to hang upside down in the ladder port long enough to give yourself a headache, staggering a little when you got to your feet. You fell into the captain's seat sideways, almost toppling off the other side of it with a quiet snicker. 

You wondered what he would say if he could see your antics. Probably something like, " _ get out of my chair, stowaway _ ." Or maybe all you would get is that particular sigh he seemed to reserve  _ just _ for you, the one that smacked of extra exasperation. You bit your lip, one foot on the floor moving the chair slightly side to side. 

How annoying. Right back where you started.

You cracked your knuckles and spread your fingers wide, imitating his sure motions as you hovered a safe distance above the toggles, switches and buttons on the control panels in front of you. You then shielded your eyes with your hand, staring studiously out from beneath your palm at the coniferous greenery that surrounded the  _ Crest _ . 

"Hmm, yes stowaway, I see the problem." You mused theatrically, pitching your voice low to mimic his modulated tone, "the T of my visor appears to limit me to only seeing things that start with the letter T. Like  _ tree _ ." You turned your head, narrowing your eyes. "And  _ troublemaker _ ." Drawing an imaginary blaster, you sauntered over to the ladder port. "Alright quarry, you got two choices." You drawled, crouching by the port. "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in-"

You stopped dead, straining your ears. What was that noise? It sounded like…

It came again, louder this time. Like a wet boot hitting the floor with a dull  _ splat _ . Your heart began to pound and you reached for your knife.  _ I'm trapped up here. How did they get in? I set the proximity alarms-! _

If it was Klatoonians, you could kiss your ass goodbye. They would be out for revenge, probably assuming that the Mandalorian was onboard. But you weren't about to give them an easy time.

You waited at the top of the ladder, holding your breath for what felt like forever. Every once in a while, you would hear that sound again and it would send a new rush of trepidation through you. You waited, and waited.

And  _ waited _ .

The suspense was going to kill you before whatever was in the hold could.

You finally let your breath out in a slow rush, steeling yourself. The hold was still illuminated with the running lights. You  _ should _ have a fighting chance against whoever was down there. At least, you wouldn't be fumbling  _ totally _ in the dark. That was kind of like having an advantage, right?

Before you could think better of essentially throwing yourself at the enemy, you slid down the ladder and whirled to face your aggressor. "I'm warning you, I'm-!" You trailed off in confusion, looking around warily at the seemingly-vacant hold. "...armed?"

Down at your feet, there was a quiet  _ splat _ and a mudjumper bumped into the side of your boot.

You sighed, "you've got to be fucking kidding me." You squatted down, scooping up the befuddled creature. "You little  _ bastard _ . I ought to feed you to the kid." You threatened, giving it a tap on the snout. "I thought you were somebody coming to destroy me."

The mudjumper blinked up at you, and then licked one of its eyes. You grimaced. 

"Yeesh. Alright, I'm evicting you." Elbowing the button to open the bottom slat of the ramp, you tipped the amphibious beast back out into the woods. "And good riddance." You huffed, brushing your hands off on your tunic. 

...

Late that evening you sprawled out on the floor of the cockpit, just enough room between the seats and the door to keep you comfortable. You could have slept in the bunk, of course, but you had been avoiding it. The memories of that droid staring you down were a  _ bit _ too fresh at this particular juncture.

You had the comlink on the floor next to your head in case you needed it. You had checked and doublechecked the proximity alarm system. All was quiet in the woods around the  _ Razor Crest _ . The only thing left was to shut your eyes and attempt to sleep.

Half an hour later you huffed in aggravation, rolling over onto your back for what felt like the hundredth time. Overhead, rain pattered softly against the clear cockpit shielding. 

Your gaze lingered on the comlink, picking it up after a momentary debate and pressing the button on the side. "H-Hey, are you there?" Your throat was so dry all of a sudden.

" _ Yeah _ ." He replied almost immediately. " _ Trouble? _ "

You closed your eyes in relief at the familiar sound of his voice. "No, sorry. I just…figured I'd check in before I go to bed. Status update."

" _ Made it to the rendezvous point. Set up a post here for the night. Will head out at dawn if no contact _ ." He said quietly, static softening his modulation. 

"How's the baby?"

" _ Tired _ ." There was a muffled rustling noise. " _ He conked out as soon as we stopped moving. _ "

"Make sure he eats, please."

" _ Copy _ ."

You sat there awkwardly for several seconds before clicking the button one last time to wish him a peaceful night (which he didn't respond to,  _ of course _ ) and placing the comlink carefully back on the floor. You wrapped your arms around your legs, thumping your forehead against your knees in frustration. "Why is it so  _ hard _ to talk to him?" You mumbled. "Gods, I just…" You trailed off, rubbing at your eyes. "This is stupid. I'm being stupid." You berated yourself, sliding down onto your back even as you spoke.

You stared up at the rain-speckled shielding for several more minutes, chewing on your lower lip feverishly while you replayed his voice in your head. Even when he didn't speak, he somehow managed to say what he needed to. You thought of the tilt of his helmet when he was studying something, the way his hands hungrily devoured his environment. He could be as bad as the kid sometimes when it came to  _ touching _ things. 

Then, there was the soft hitch of his breath when he had to speak a little louder; his vast library of groans, grunts and sighs. For being so stoic, he certainly made a lot of  _ noises _ . Noises that, should your mind be so inclined towards thinking in a more lascivious manner, piqued your interest.

A wicked thought came to you, riding on the memory of him being poisoned. Honest words tumbling out of his mouth in a frenzy, the way he had looked at you,  _ really _ looked at you. You could feel his stare even through his visor, " _ nice t' look at, too _ ."

Did he really think about you like that? And earlier, when the ship had dropped out of hyperspace...

Born of your loneliness, or maybe just touch-starved infatuation, your imagination conjured up a racy scenario for you to enjoy. The idea of him settling in between your legs with a modulator-filtered curse had your breath quickening, and you warred momentarily with your guilt. Ludicrously, you came up with the justification that as long as you didn't imagine him without his  _ helmet _ , it probably wasn't  _ that _ offensive. 

Effectively granted permission for your thoughts, you undid the clasps on your placket and shoved your pants down around your ankles. Tonight, you decided, you would take your time. You were truly alone for the first instance in what felt like a short eternity, and it was time to  _ indulge _ . 

You rolled over and got your knees beneath you, arching your back. Your trembling palm traveled down the length of your body, the slightly-colder skin making you dream of the slide of beskar on your sensitive belly and thighs. The first graze of your fingers had you whimpering into your blanket,  _ gods _ it had been too long. You were barely even wet yet and already you were aching. You sobbed out a breath, your chest rubbing against the blanket with your motions. 

In your mind, however, it was the Mandalorian cupping your breasts, the Mandalorian's fingers that tortured you in near silence. You canted your hips, whispering, " _ please _ ," already begging for more. Would he keep his gloves on during the act, stain the leather with your arousal? Or would he be too hungry to resist touching you barehanded? "Stars,  _ please- _ " 

You plucked at your nipple with a soft little whine and teased yourself with your fingers at the edge of your entrance. How full would he make you feel? Would he shove himself in all at once, or make you beg for it? Would  _ he _ tease you?

Your fingers plunged in and you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head when you curled your index. Just  _ thinking _ about him touching you in this way was enough to have you in spasm! Stars, you had it bad. 

But what if he wanted you just as much as you wanted him?  _ What if, what if... _

"Oh  _ please _ fuck me…" you moaned. "I need you, pl-please-" It felt silly, but also  _ infinitely _ hotter to finally say it out loud, almost as if you were practicing for the real thing. " _ Gods _ , fuck me open with that Mandalorian cock,  _ please please please- _ " you rambled, giving in to the urge to be as filthy as you wished. 

Your own sense of touch faded away, replaced with the scuff of imaginary leather or the sleek glide of beskar. What would he sound like? Would he be vocal? Or would he be stoic, silent, just taking what he needed from you?

"I'm so wet for you." You crooned, spreading your legs a little wider. "So wet,  _ just _ for you…" Slick pooled in your palm when you ground your clit down against the heel of your hand, the heated noise it made startlingly loud in the quiet of the cabin. "I want to feel your cock, want to know what you feel like inside me, gods,  _ please _ …"

You had never felt so boldly lewd in all your life as you fucked yourself with your own fingers, your mouth running away from you when you sped up.

"It's not enough." You panted. "Not enough, my fingers aren't enough… _gods_ , I need _my_ _Mandalorian_ to fuck me right. Please, please please I _need_ _you_." You bit down on the blanket, rocking your hips against your hand frantically. " _Please_ , please, fill me up, please, fuck me, fuc- _k_ _me_ …" you begged into the fabric, your thighs quivering as your body pulled tight in anticipation.

When you came apart, it was like stars filled your eyes. You writhed against your own hand, hips shuddering out of sync. You wished that he was inside you, you wished more than anything that you could feel him-

"I'm coming,  _ please _ -" You whimpered through your orgasm, relaxing boneless on the blanket as exhaustion  _ finally _ dragged at you.

When you could move again, you wiped your fingers off on your thigh and stretched, moaning in self-satisfaction before tugging your pants back up. Then, you shakily got to your feet to go clean yourself up in the refresher. 

You barely remembered getting back to your blankets, slumber already encroaching even as you climbed the ladder up to the cockpit.

…

The next morning you awoke early, feeling incredibly refreshed and chipper. Clearly that evening of hands-on indulgence was what you had been missing from your life, and you vowed to make more time for yourself in the future.

After your hearty breakfast of canned meat and some vegetables you managed to scare up, you retrieved the comlink to check in on the Mandalorian. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, all clear on my end. ETA?" 

No reply. 

You frowned, turning the small tube over in your hand. The button to talk was still depressed even after you had released it, effectively silencing any message that might have been directed at you. You pursed your lips and tugged out your knife, carefully using the tip to free up the button. Then, you tried again, this time being more delicate with the button so it didn't get caught. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, sorry for any feedback. Technical difficulties. All clear on my end. ETA?"

" _ I  _ **_told_ ** _ you the damn button would get stuck if you weren't careful _ ." He griped, making you grin.

"Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" You teased.

" _ Didn't sleep well. We're fifteen minutes out, Dune walking drag. No pursuers yet, but get everything stowed and ready. _ " He ordered curtly.

"Will do." You replied, saluting even though he couldn't see you. 

It didn't take much time for you to have all equipment squared away in preparation to launch, and you waited impatiently at the top of the loading ramp to spot the gleam of his armor through the trees. 

Soon enough, out he and Cara strode with the child in tow. The little one was babbling wildly as they toddled along beside the two adults, obviously carrying on  _ quite _ the conversation. "Dune!" You greeted the ex-trooper happily, getting pulled into a rib-cracking hug for your trouble. "And I missed  _ you! _ " You sang to the kid, scooping them up off the ground to briefly fly overhead. "Were you good for your papa?" You asked, beeping their nose softly. "Didn't cause him any trouble, right?"

You heard the Mandalorian sputter strangely, the armored man suddenly struck by a fit of coughing. Cara thumped him on the back worriedly. "Tadpole's an angel. Eats all his vegetables and everything." She assured you with a grin.

"Enough small talk. There's still one more stop after this." The Mandalorian managed to say, straightening back up and fidgeting with his gauntlets.

"Are you alright?" You asked, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. He actually  _ jumped _ at the contact and you pulled back, confused.

"Sorry, I...I didn't get much sleep." His chuckle sounded forced, but he still bumped his helmet briefly against your forehead before he headed up the boarding ramp. 

Carasynthia cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed at the armored man's back. But all she did was huff out a breath and follow after him, leaving you to bring up the rear with the child. "All that battle-rattle must be scrambling his brain." She muttered to you, making you snicker.

"Sit down and strap in." The Mandalorian called, already halfway up the ladder to the cockpit.

"Well pollywog, you heard the boss." Dune shrugged at the child, smirking when they started giggling. "Stars, why can't  _ human _ kids be as nice as this one? Human kids always look like angry piglets."

…

The final stop between Sorgan and Nevarro was on Arvala-7.

An old Ugnaught came to greet you all at the door of what was clearly  _ his _ modest moisture farm, his deep-set eyes roving over the group laid out in front of him. "I see your family has grown, Mandalorian. More Foundlings?" He asked dryly.

"I need your help." The armored man rasped, getting right to the point.

"I assumed as much. Why else would you return? Come in, all of you. Whatever you need, I'm certain it can wait until after supper." The Ugnaught urged, waving for you to follow.

The small dwelling was somewhat cramped with everyone squeezed into the common area, and you kept accidentally bumping elbows with Cara. After the Ugnaught had plated some strange-looking concoction (which ended up tasting surprisingly good), he settled down into his chair with a grunt. "I too have gained an addition, my armored friend." He mused, gesturing towards the doorway.

A tall, thin droid carefully bent nearly double to enter the structure, a tray gripped in its digits. "Would anyone care for some tea?" It enquired.

Before it had finished speaking the Mandalorian had his blaster out and aimed. You blinked up at him, a little startled. The Ugnaught raised a peaceable hand. "Please, please, lower your blaster. It will not harm you."

"That  _ thing _ is programmed to kill the baby." The Mandalorian snapped furiously.

" _ What?! _ " You shrieked, hurrying to unsheath your vibroblade. Cara's elbow  _ slammed _ against your bicep as she pulled her own blaster out and you yelped, almost losing your grip on the knife.

The droid's multiple sets of eyes whirred in the silence that followed, the metallic being observing the weapons leveled at it. "That was its intended purpose, yes. But I have rebuilt it." The Ugnaught answered serenely.

"How  _ much _ of it, though?" You waved your hands, sputtering, "I don't mind droids, but  _ hell _ ."

"Your Mandalorian trusts me, or at least my work. IG-11 no longer poses a threat to the child." 

"I trust it under  _ certain _ circumstances." The armored man muttered, his blaster staying exactly where it was. "Is it still a hunter?"

"No. But it will protect."

The IG unit seemed to be staring at the Mandalorian, who was glaring back at it harder than you had ever seen him glare.  _ Really _ putting his shoulders into it.

"Tea?" The droid offered him a steaming cup, clenched in spindly fingers. You heard the Mandalorian exhale hard as Cara nodded in his stead, holstering her blaster and gingerly accepting the cup. At least  _ one _ of you could be polite!

The Ugnaught rose from his chair after several tense moments had passed, stating that he needed to feed the blurrgs. The Mandalorian stalked out behind him, the armored man transparently attempting to have a private conversation. "Watch that." He ordered you curtly, gesturing at the droid.

You nodded, gamely turning to stare intently at the machine that was currently standing in a...well, not very menacing fashion. You imagined most individuals, even trained killing robots, wouldn't look particularly threatening while balancing a tray of tea-things. 

"I appear to have upset him." IG-11 commented after a moment of enduring your stare. "This was not my intention."

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Cara remarked with a touch of amusement. "He's got some weird thing about droids."

Your mind flew back to Z, the droid that had cornered you in the bunk. "I kind of understand why." You said quietly. "There was...well, an incident, with the kid and I." Cara raised an eyebrow. "We got...we were, um. We were trapped, in the bunk."

"Oh." The ex-trooper said weakly. "Well. I guess I can...I guess I'll give him that one then. Someone was going after the tyke?" She asked, reaching out a gentle hand to said tyke. The kid babbled happily, their little fingers grasping at Cara's.

"Yeah, it was a droid. One of the compound-eyed ones, too fast for me to stop it." You mumbled. "All I had was my knife."

Cara was quiet for a while, just swinging the baby's arm to and fro. "If you do not require further libations, I shall go and assist Kuiil." The droid announced stiffly, breaking the silence. 

"Wait!" You exclaimed, rushing to stand. "Just, um, wait until they come back, please?" You went on to hastily suggest, "can you, uh, show me where to put the dishes? Maybe we can clean this up while they're busy."

The droid's head rotated on a strange axis, so it took you a second to realize that it was nodding at you. "Of course. It is part of my normal duties to clear the table. It would be wise for me to accomplish this task before attempting a new one."

Inwardly you breathed a sigh of relief, almost positive that you had saved this droid from certain doom. You couldn't help but wonder how the Mandalorian knew this  _ particular _ IG unit was programmed to kill the child. Perhaps they had crossed paths previously?

…

The Mandalorian's discussion with the Ugnaught Kuiil secured him not only his support, but the help of the droid as well and  _ apparently _ , several blurrg. 

You were certain this trip would be a logistical nightmare. Good thing you had spent nearly an entire day cleaning out the hold! Even with the room made by stacking things properly, it would no doubt be a snug fit.

Kuiil insisted that you all stay the night either way, the Ugnaught's tone brooking no argument. The Mandalorian had heaved a sigh, but acquiesced. 

The child was already drowsy, the potent combination of a full belly and busy day working overtime to ensure a restful night. Kuiil actually rustled up a small crate for the kid to sleep in, his large hands remarkably careful as he swaddled the yawning child in an old quilt.

You were just settling them into their makeshift bed for the evening when you heard the familiar rattle of beskar. The armored man poked his head into the room after a momentary delay, his voice quiet when he requested your presence in the  _ Crest _ as soon as possible.

You glanced up at him, a little confused. "Me? But-" You began to protest, indicating downwards at the child.

Cara nudged you towards the doorway, her lips quirked into an odd, almost  _ smug _ smile. "I can manage tucking in the pollywog for tonight. Go help him out." She urged.


	7. Like A Ghost

He was silent for quite a while and you were loathe to break it, sitting on the edge of the co-pilot seat with the harness secured loosely around you. A force of habit, more than anything.

He appeared to be studying the various star charts, flipping back and forth between two particular ones to select the shortest route to the next destination. You were still uncertain as to  _ why _ he had requested your presence; your navigational skills were bare-bones compared to his, so that couldn't be it.

"You remember what I said about the button on the comlink?" The Mandalorian asked abruptly, making you straighten up. "That it sticks?"

"Yeah, of course. You told me a few times." You responded, your brow furrowed. "Why, did something happen?"

"That night, you…" he paused, clearing his throat. "After you said good night."

_ Oh no. _

"I thought you were in pain."

_ No no  _ **_no._ **

"At least, that's what I thought a-at first." Even through your panic, you picked up on his voice sounding strange again.

"I-I--" You stuttered, your mind spooling back all the  _ incredibly _ embarrassing,  _ incriminating _ things you had said.  _ Maker _ . "Look, I-"

"Do you do that often?" He questioned bluntly. He hadn't turned to look at you and  _ that _ , of all things, made you angry.

"Listen, I get it, okay? It's gross, someone like me getting off on thinking about someone like you. Miles worse since you had to hear it,  _ I'm sure _ ." You spat, your embarrassment compounding to a scalding fury. "I wish it hadn't happened, but now that I know it did all I can say is  _ forget _ -"

The sound of his harness buckle hitting the side of his chair interrupted your heated rant and the next thing you knew he was standing over you, leather gloves creaking from the pressure of his fists clenching. You quailed a little, suddenly unsure of yourself. What if he thought you were dirty,  _ disgusting _ for fantasizing about him? Oh Maker, what if he was angry? What if he forced you to leave? What if-

The Mandalorian jabbed a finger down to undo your own buckle, his grip unforgiving steel when he tugged you up out of your seat. You stared hard at his chest, willing yourself not to cry.

"I couldn't get your sounds out of my head." He rasped finally. "I was up all night. Couldn't sleep." His hand moved up slowly, like he was in a trance, and he ran his thumb over your lower lip. "Th-Thinking about you spread out on the floor, whimpering for me." He muttered, and you started to realize that he was absolutely  _ not _ angry. This was...something else. "Begging for…sounded like you were right next to me a-and you're this beautiful...fucking,  _ perfect _ -" He stopped abruptly, his words choking off in his throat. 

It was  _ restraint _ . 

Iron restraint was keeping him barely reined-in but he  _ wanted _ this, the breaths panting out through the modulator a tell-tale sign that he was under duress. He pulled off his right glove and reached out hesitantly, cradling your hand in his bare palm when you didn't move away. 

His fingers were so hot. You could feel them trembling and you wondered what thoughts must be running rampant in his head as you folded your other hand over his own, keeping it there. He inhaled raggedly, his helmet listing to the side. " _ Maker _ , I've been--I was…" 

"What?" You whispered, feeling as though you were trying to approach a wild animal.

He appeared to be having trouble articulating. For all his self-assurance, he had never really displayed any sort of awe-inspiring grasp of linguistics. The tradeoff for a creed of people that so often ended up solitary, you reasoned. In a way, it was endearing. 

A soft noise issued from him, almost a groan, almost a sigh, and he lifted his free hand to his chest. His index and middle finger drew a circle and then he rapped his knuckles against the beskar over his heart, steel ringing softly in the silence of the cockpit. " _ K'oyacyi _ , stay alive, stay safe." He murmured. "An order, rigid, firm, with heart underneath it."

_ Oh _ .

"Do you remember the first time you said that to me?" The Mandalorian pressed on, "You were still scared of me, but you said it anyway. Right before I tangled with Dune. "

You erupted into giggles. "I know, you got covered in needles from those trees."

"Thought I'd never get all of them out of my cape." He was  _ smiling _ , you could hear it in his voice.

"You sound nice when you smile." 

"I...h-how...thank you." He stammered. 

He stepped back after a moment, gesturing down at the star charts.  _ Destination: Nevarro _ . The place you had called home for over a cycle. The place where you had once longed to return. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had been cowering in the hold, begging to be delivered safely to Nevarro.

"I'm...I'm bringing you back. This is where you wanted to go." He said with difficulty. "Once we arrive, I..." He paused, looking down at you. "I don't know what will happen."

"I'm coming with you." You said quickly.

You  _ felt _ the difference, the shift in his attitude. One moment he had been warm, the next, an impenetrable wall of beskar slid up between you. "No, you're not." 

You wanted to scream at the change, to rail at it until he relented and gave you back that brief taste of what you had been searching for all this time. The  _ man _ , not the mystery. "How am I supposed to keep you safe if you go places without me?" You reasoned wildly, trying to phrase it like you were joking.

"I don't need you to keep me safe." For all his hatred of droids, he  _ certainly _ excelled at channeling their impassive demeanor. "I would rather you stayed out of this. It's business between the Guild and myself."

"Then why are Cara and Kuiil here too?" You challenged.

"That's...they're here to…" He shook his head and looked back towards the viewport, obviously frustrated and either unwilling or  _ unable _ to explain himself.

Your heart sank in grim realization. "You're going to do something."

"I'm always  _ doing _ someth-"

"You know what I mean!" You interrupted him sharply. "Something that you  _ shouldn't _ do. I heard the message, most of it anyway."

"It's something that I  _ have _ to do." He sighed, the sound bone-tired. "Otherwise, they'll just send more hunters after the kid. It's better this way. Better if I go along with the plan."

"B-But-"

He reached for you abruptly, hands gripping your shoulders. "What would  _ you _ do? Since  _ you've _ got all the answers?" He growled. "I can't keep running. We've barely made it this far. I won't get steady work without the Guild. If I do this, Karga wipes my record and I can get back to the way things were. The kid shouldn't have to be fucking  _ hunted _ , running scared all the time!"

You glared up at him, furious because  _ of course _ there was nothing you could do to change his mind. You didn't have a solution to this problem and he knew it, yet he still wanted to take it out on you! "Don't yell at me,  _ you-! _ " Angry words seethed in your chest, molten hot like lava. You wanted to rage at him,  _ stars _ knew you wanted to. But instead, tears welled up in your eyes. " _ Y-You--! _ "  _ Maker _ , why couldn't you just be  _ angry? _ "You're so  _ stupid! _ " You sobbed out.

He was silent in the wake of your tumultuous explosion, hesitantly digging his thumbs in to rub comforting circles on your shoulders after several minutes of just  _ standing _ there like a statue. "I don't know what else to do." He admitted, his voice nothing but a soft whisper. "All I know is what I  _ have _ to do. You need to understand, the IG and I...I made the choice to hunt the kid first. I turned him in first. I took the payment  _ first _ ."

"You  _ g-gave _ them the baby?" You snuffled incredulously. "I thought-"

"They offered me an entire camtono of beskar." He replied, his voice dark with shame. Your eyes widened, breath catching in your chest.  _ So much! _ "Slid me an ingot beforehand to sweeten the pot. It was Purge-smelted, like the one you had. It  _ needed _ to be brought back to the tribe. Healed. Melted down to sponsor Foundlings." He sounded like he was still trying to convince himself, still trying to justify his actions. "This is the Way." 

"Stars." You breathed. 

"I handed over the kid, got my beskar, and I...I just...I realized that I had…" He was struggling again, settling for a shrug. "So I went and stole him back and then left." He cocked his head to the side, his tone gone wryly fond. "That's when you showed up." 

_ The individual in gleaming beskar armor gave no sign that they heard you, their rifle barrel trained between your eyes-- _

Now that you knew what had transpired immediately prior to your arrival, you were even more impressed that he hadn't shot you on sight. "I'm  _ going _ with you. I don't care." You hiccupped, wiping your eyes. 

"That's the problem. I  _ do _ ." His voice pitched lower with sincerity, fingers digging in slightly. "How many damn times have I put you in danger? Between Sorgan, Toro, the stunt with Ranzar's group? This  _ isn't _ a life you want, stowaway." He was trying to  _ convince _ you, you realized, possibly himself as well. 

"I want a life with  _ you _ ." You whispered, your words naked and honest.

The Mandalorian's voice sounded raw even through the modulator. "No, you don't."

His hands left your shoulders and you almost started crying again, only just managing to fend off the impulse through sheer, indomitable  _ spite _ . You seized his bare hand before he could move away from you and you raised it to your lips.

" _ Don't _ ," he breathed, his helmet bowed against his shoulder. "You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."

"I don't believe you." You knew the words were cruel, but you didn't regret them. You stared defiantly up at the impassive man, then you kissed his knuckles. 

And all hell broke loose.

The Mandalorian ripped his hand out of your hold and grabbed a fistful of your tunic, shoving you back against the wall. " _ You think so? _ " He seethed through his teeth. "You really--you believe- _ I-- _ " His body crowded yours, beskar breastplate rising and falling against your chest with every furious breath he took. Your own breathing hitched, legs trembling slightly as you stared him down. "Do you have  _ any _ idea how hard you're making this for me?!" He finally managed to snarl. Not  _ angry _ but  _ frustrated _ , scared.

His pelvis rested against yours, and through his flight suit... "Yeah." You replied, giving him your  _ cheekiest _ smirk. "Yeah, I'm getting an idea."

"You-" he stopped short, obviously confused before you pointedly rolled your hips. His helm dropped and he sucked in a ragged breath, the hand still fisted in your shirt tugging you hesitantly closer after a moment. "More.  _ Fuck _ , I just-" His other hand grappled with your belt loops, wrenching your lower half flush to his. " _ More _ ."

You squirmed in an effort to get comfortable and he snapped his teeth with an audible  _ click! _ , the noise sending lightning sparks through your body. As he tilted his head back, no doubt in an attempt to regain some composure, the thick column of his throat revealed itself tantalizingly from beneath the layers of beskar and cowling.

" _ Want _ to touch you." He said helplessly.

"I'm not going to stop you."

"I  _ know _ , that's the fucking  _ problem _ ." 

"That seems like the exact opposite of a problem to me." You tucked your face against his shoulder, fingers dragging his cowl out of the way, and you felt his whole body tense as you pressed your mouth to the sensitive skin of his throat.

The Mandalorian made a noise that sounded almost pained, his gloved hand shooting up to thread through your hair. " _ Maker _ , you... _ fuck _ -" His voice cracked when you bit down gently. "Oh,  _ fuck _ . Fuck. Fuck. I want--"

"What do you want?" You asked softly.

"I--" The armored man surged forward to nudge his knee between your legs, spreading them wider. His fingers fought with your placket for a split-second, and then he had it splayed open. " _ You _ ." He growled, gracelessly shoving his bare hand into your underwear. He stopped dead, clearly startled by how wet you already were. " _ Oh _ , you-- _ you-? _ "

As if he  _ hadn't _ had you in his helmet the other night begging him to fuck you. You whimpered, licking and nipping at the skin of his neck to try and encourage him to keep moving. "Come on, don't stop-"

His fingers shakily curved to cup your mound, rapid breathing all but deafening through the modulator. "You're so warm." He sounded dazed, his index finger tracing your slit before his knuckles collided with the slick that had pooled in your panties. " _ Maker _ , I just-"

His hand slithered free and you whined at the loss, confused when he quickly clapped his other hand over your eyes. There was a soft  _ chuff _ of air and then you heard the distinct noise of a tongue hard at work. Your thighs clenched instinctively.  _ Gods _ , was he  _ tasting _ you? The low, unmodulated groan that followed only intensified your suspicions and arousal in equal measure.

"So  _ hot _ ." His bare fingers delved back into your drenched pussy, smearing your slick liberally around your clit. He hadn't removed the hand from your eyes yet, warm leather kissing your cheekbones. "You're so wet, I-- _ fuck _ -" Whatever limited articulation he  _ did _ possess seemed to have been thrown to the wayside, the Mandalorian resorting to a litany of sighed swears that had your body rocking against his hand. 

The hand that he kept  _ pulling free _ . You could hear him shoving his helmet up to taste you every time, licking your arousal off of his fingers like he was starving. 

This was all achingly one-sided, despite his original protests. "H-Hey." You said shakily, trying to get his attention, "not that I'm not having legitimately the  _ best _ time of my life, b-but I'm not doing anything for you-"

"Wrong." He replied breathlessly. "Everything for me."

"I just feel like-- _ I-! _ " Your voice cracked, then broke  _ embarrassingly _ high when he hooked his fingers a certain way and ground the heel of his palm up. You grabbed his shoulders, your body caving into his as your legs started to tremble.

"Everything for me." He repeated, feverishly working his thumb in circles around your clit. "Everything,  _ everything- _ " He nudged your face against his neck, muffling your hungry whimpers and moans with his cowl. "- _ Perfect- _ "

Your nails dug into his pauldrons and a satisfied growl rumbled in his chest as you came apart under his touch. 

His hand finally left your eyes, but at that point you were having difficulty opening them anyway. You dimly heard him tearing at his zippers, the lower fly of his flight suit apparently giving him some trouble. He snarled and the feral noise ripped down your back like a searing blade, making you quiver against the wall. 

His gloved hand cupped the back of your neck, tugging your head down until you lazily blinked open your eyes, somnolent and simply luxuriating in the feeling. "Look." He breathed, seeming almost  _ shy _ .

Oh.  _ Oh _ , he was  _ huge _ . 

You were  _ absolutely _ looking. 

He had his cock in hand, the whole surface shining with a mixture of precome and your own arousal. As you watched, the head of it slowly vanished into his fist, and then emerged even slicker than before. "You're such a tease." You whimpered, loving the way his hips jerked at the sound of your voice. "Are you going to put it into me or do I have to beg?"

"You...you  _ want-? _ " The Mandalorian sounded absolutely  _ shattered _ . 

"Please,  _ please _ fuck me." You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing kisses to the bare skin you could find. " _ Please _ ." Granted, you were unsure of your body's capability to take... _ all of that _ , but you were absolutely game to try.

" _ Stars _ , you're killing me." He grated out, tugging at your pants so you could kick them off. Strong hands gripped the backs of your thighs and he hoisted you up against his body, shoving his liner shirt to the side in the process. His cock ended up trapped between the slick folds of your pussy and his stomach and you  _ loved _ the helpless noise he made in his throat.

Your back hit the wall a little higher than before and you wrapped your legs around his hips, wriggling into a slightly more comfortable position. 

"Tell me to stop." He begged, his cock throbbing against your sensitive clit as he shifted his hips. The motions sent tiny little shudders of delight up and down your spine. 

In reply, you rested your forehead on his helmet, staring into the visor. You imagined you caught the faintest glimpse of his eyes, wide and waiting. "You want me to ask nicely?" You crooned, " _ Please _ fuck me."

His cock  _ slowly, slowly _ surged up into you, the blunt press of it robbing you of your breath. The Mandalorian's snarl was music to your ears, "Have t-t--go... _ slow _ ." And  _ stars _ he was huge,  _ huge _ , you were bewildered that you were managing so well on this first push. You thanked the Maker that he had already made you come once, at least he wouldn't have any lubrication issues!

Words appeared to fail him rapidly, the armored man focused solely on burying his cock in you as deeply as he could. You finally felt the fabric of his flight suit against your groin and you  _ growled _ , your fingers raking hungrily at his back plating. " _ Fuc-kk-- _ y-you're so  _ big _ -" You gasped.

His first  _ real _ thrust ruined you. Your back arched and your mouth fell open of its own accord as the breath left your body, your mind dissolving into static. The Mandalorian pressed his forehead to your own. "S'-- _ okay? _ " He slurred, clearly concerned but not in the right frame of mind to fully coordinate a sentence.

"Move, oh please,  _ please _ ," You begged, " _ fuck _ me open, f-fuck me,  _ fuck me- _ "

His cock withdrew, and- _ and-- _

" _ M'sorry- _ " he choked out, cradling the back of your head to keep it from hitting the wall as he mercilessly pounded your cunt. "So-- _ hot _ , wet, I--"

"Don't stop,  _ please please please _ -" you sobbed against his neck, your fists clenched into his flight suit. "P- _ lease _ , I need it, I need  _ you _ ,  _ gods _ I need you so much-" The words tumbled from your lips, as brutally honest as you could let yourself be, as he fucked them out of you. "I need you so much, I need you so much--"

_ I love you so much, I love you so much _ .

"N- _ Need _ …" You felt his body go taut underneath you, the tension making his cock throb at your inner walls. " _ You _ \--me?" 

" _ Yes _ ." You keened, your second orgasm building to a crest in your belly.

"So  _ good- _ " Every impressive inch of him plunged into you and then he stopped, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held still for the barest second. " _ Safe _ ." His helmet tipped back and he groaned, fumbling his free hand down to stroke your clit and fuck you through your orgasm. "I-- _ want _ you, p-please--all this  _ skin _ , f- _ uck _ ,  _ y-yes _ you feel  _ so--! _ " 

He was grunting, straining, snarling out half-nonsense and then you raised one trembling hand to his chest. Two fingers traced a circle on the center of his beskar plate and as his chin tipped down to watch you, you tapped your knuckles over his heart. "Safe." You whispered.

He came in you with a seething moan, his fingers clawing at your hips while you clung tightly to him. 

Heavy breaths rattled his entire body. You weren't much better, your chest heaving against his own. The Mandalorian groaned deep in his throat, dragging at the hem of your tunic. "What's wrong?" You asked breathlessly.

He didn't answer, just continued to haul the tunic up and over your head. He then rutted his hips up, punching a pitiful little whine out of you.  _ How _ was he still hard?!

" _ More _ ." He begged. 

…

The Mandalorian's head tipped back and he swore, the noise gravelly. 

You sprawled comfortably between his legs, naked as the day you were born and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. You had been there for an extended period of time, though you didn't particularly care. The pace you had set was languid, unhurried, and he seemed perfectly happy to just sit in his pilot chair with his cock resting on your tongue.

The urgency that he displayed earlier hadn't faded at all despite that, both of his now-ungloved hands hungrily stroking over your jaw, your shoulders, the back of your neck. 

"If I don't--don't-" He gasped out suddenly. "I want you to know, I-"

You pulled off of his cock and he grunted, shuddering. "You  _ can _ just blow off steam, you know. Not everything has to have an important reason." You informed him, your nails scratching lightly at the flight suit that still covered his thighs. You ducked back down to kiss and lick at his balls, and you heard him choke when your tongue soothed over the sensitive skin. 

His abdomen spasmed underneath the thin liner shirt, muscles twitching and jumping the longer you lavished his balls with attention. " _ W-hy _ \--I don't-I don't--" He stuttered, rushing to wrap his fist around the base of his cock to hold his orgasm back again. This would mark the fourth time since you had settled between his legs, but you were hardly complaining. " _ Oh _ , fuck,  _ f--uck _ -" 

"Don't you want to come?" You asked curiously, licking a wet stripe up the side of his cock and fingers. 

His helmet slammed back against the headrest hard enough to make  _ you _ wince. "W-Want-- _ hngh _ -I don't want this t-to...don't want it to  _ end _ . Feel so  _ good-! _ " 

His voice broke when you grazed your fingernails softly over his balls. Despite him coming in you earlier, he seemed to have more than enough to spare. You wondered with a lewd thrill just how  _ much _ he might come if he was toyed with long enough. 

"Used t' think about--about this. A-About. You." He confessed guiltily. "Fuck my fist, wishing it was your...c-- _ unt _ ,  _ fuck- _ " 

"Yeah? Did you get off on me?" You asked teasingly. "Did you wish you were fucking me?"

"I d-didn't  _ mean _ to-" he moaned, the noise almost a whimper. "I just...you were... _ g-good _ to me, n' sometimes I would--I would--" He spread his legs a little wider and shoved his liner shirt up, exposing the planes of his abdomen to you in a languid show. He then slid a single finger down the side of his cock, smearing the precome that had seeped forth once you removed your mouth. "Fuck my fist, just--j- _ just _ wishing that I could…" He choked off his train of thought when you leaned up and licked at the skin he had revealed. " _ Oh _ , oh,  _ fuck _ -"

"I'll suck you off for as long as you want, and you can fuck me for as long as you want." You breathed. 

"N-No,  _ no _ , have to do something for you t-too." The Mandalorian protested, his hands grasping at your shoulders. "I can't just t- _ ake _ -"

"You want to do something for me?"

" _ Anything _ . Wh-Whatever you want."

"Kiss me?" You whispered.

His entire body went still. "I…" 

"You can cover my eyes, but I promise I won't peek. It doesn't even have to be on the mouth, if you don't want to! I just…" You fidgeted and glanced down, feeling weirdly shy all of a sudden. "I just wanted to know, I-I guess."

"Sit up here." He ordered as he patted his thighs, his voice breathless. "Sit." You obliged, straddling him as best as you could with his legs spread so far apart. You ended up with your mound pressed to his stomach, your pussy grinding against his cock with every shaky breath he took. "I'm going to cover your eyes now."  _ Why _ was he whispering? He raised his hand, tenderly cupping your cheek before he smoothed it down over your eyes.

"I can't take it off for you, right?" You asked. "That's not allowed?"

He murmured, "has to be me." Blind to everything and anything except the overwhelming presence that was  _ him _ , you closed your eyes behind his palm and waited patiently. 

There was the soft  _ chuff _ of air that you had heard over and over earlier when he was... _ enjoying _ you. Then, the quiet slide of his skin against the inner padding. 

"Oh-!  _ Dammit _ ." He swore a split-second before there was a loud clatter on the floor. You burst out laughing. " _ Rude _ , stowaway. Shouldn't kick a man when he's down." Even through his protests, you could tell he was smiling. "Lost my grip on it."

You raised your hands, blindly feeling along his arms until you reached his shoulders. He still had his pauldrons on, the beskar smooth under your touch. You walked your fingers up the sides of his neck, surprised when you felt thick hair grazing your knuckles at the nape of his neck. "Okay, so maybe you  _ do _ have hair." You allowed, lacing your fingers through it and tugging gently.

"Were you  _ still _ \--Maker, you're impossible." He huffed, leaning forward. His stubble brushed your ear and you flinched, squealing a little when he tongued over the ticklish skin. " _ Got you _ ." He exhaled and suddenly it  _ wasn't _ ticklish anymore. Straight teeth worried the sensitive shell of your ear and you whimpered, unable to keep from twitching at the feeling. "Mm, what's the matter?" The Mandalorian murmured playfully. "You  _ said _ I didn't have to kiss you on the mouth." 

"Yeah, b- _ but-- _ " You cut yourself off, your fingernails digging into the nape of his neck when he plunged his hot, wet tongue into your ear before mouthing all around the edge. For some reason the sensation had you wound tight, a new wave of slick rising in your core. " _ Ah-! _ "

He brought his free hand down to your pussy, carefully spreading your folds with his fingers. "What's the matter?" He crooned in your ear again, tapping his thumb lightly down onto your clit. He then nipped at your earlobe, tongue laving over the skin. "Was there something else you needed? You're dripping the come I pumped into you all over my beskar." He whispered. "Could keep you splayed open like this for  _ hours _ , just so I could watch your insides twitch and clench down on nothing while you're waiting for more." 

"Y-You-" You wished your voice didn't sound so breathy. You couldn't decide which you preferred: his wild stammering when he was out of control, or his unflinchingly honest speech when he could manage himself accordingly. "You're  _ not _ f-fair--"

"Mm, odds are usually  _ not _ in my favor." He agreed. He wrapped his soaked fingers around his cock, giving himself a lazy stroke and then rubbing the head against your clit. "You're so fucking... _ warm _ ," he grunted, his thighs shifting restlessly underneath you. "I want to put my cock back into you. Will you let me fuck you again?" He asked, not giving you enough time to answer before indignantly replying, "What,  _ no? _ Damn, you drive a hard bargain. What if I offered to...kiss you on the mouth? Would you let me put my cock in you then?" 

You found yourself laughing at his teasing, butting your forehead against his own even though his palm was still over your eyes. "You're so  _ dumb _ ." You snickered. "How was I ever scared of you?"

"Because I'm strong and fast." He replied bluntly. "The armor helps."

"Your modesty is your finest quality." You snarked, a soft whimper fighting its way free when he rocked the head of his cock against your entrance again.

"Hmm, I don't remember you begging for my  _ modesty _ the other night." He taunted you in reply. "If I recall correctly, you got a little... _ possessive _ . ' _ Your Mandalorian _ ', was it?"

You swore under your breath. You got the feeling you would never,  _ ever _ live that moment of weakness down. But seeing as it had led to this, you could probably endure his lighthearted jabs. "Well, yes. I did say that." You admitted. "Did it make you uncomfortable?"

" _ Fuck _ no." His teeth grazed your ear again and you shivered before you could stop yourself. "It was...it was nice to hear you all strung out, fucking yourself to the idea of me." You could feel the curve of his lips, could hear the  _ bastard _ smiling. "The speaker is right in my ear, so it was like having you next to me." His unmodulated voice was like warm honey, husky, rich and golden. You had never thought that a  _ voice _ could be so enthralling. "You're moving your hips again, stowaway." His fingers returned to your pussy, spreading you wide once more. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy doing that, if only to make you squirm. "Something you want?"

You reached down and took hold of his cock, smiling at the way his breathing hitched. "This." You splayed a palm on his chest, feeling the thunder of his heartbeat there. "All of this." Your fingers rose from his chest to his mouth, where you brushed your thumb over his lower lip. "And this."

"Yours already. All of it." He sighed, the noise turning into a growl when you angled your hips and eased the head of his cock into your cunt. "All of it. Every inch, every...s- _ stupid _ thing out of my mouth, everything." 

"I like most of the things that come out of your mouth." You assured him, bracing yourself on his thighs and slowly,  _ slowly _ lowering your pussy all the way down on his cock. Your pelvis slotted against his with a wet noise and you could feel your arousal trickle out around his cock and down your thighs.

" _ Hah _ , you...y-you…" You felt his hand squeeze your face momentarily, and then his mouth collided with your own. You whined and he snarled, that hot tongue seeking your own out after a split-second. He licked into your mouth hungrily like he was starving for a taste of you, only backing off to gasp, "Y-You're so  _ wet _ -"

You bit down on his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth so you could harass it with your teeth and tongue. The Mandalorian made a strangled noise in his throat as your tongue flicked back and forth over the sensitive flesh before you released him again. 

"Can't even th-think straight right now." He admitted, sliding his free hand beneath you to support your back. "Maker, between your fucking  _ mouth _ and your c--cunt, it's a miracle I'm still--" His words jerked to a halt and you heard him swallow audibly. "Oh.  _ Oh _ ." He gritted out.

You rocked your hips back and forth a little faster, knowing that he could handle a rougher pace. He curved inside you  _ deliciously _ , the length of him only marginally easier to manage with you in control.

"Wait, wait wait, I'm-- _ fuck _ , wait,  _ I- _ " 

"What's the matter?" You asked breathlessly. "Too much for you?" You felt his hand grapple fiercely at the small of your back, grinding your pussy down onto his cock. He started rambling in Mando'a, the words ragged as you continued your merciless attack without quarter. This was one fight you were determined to not let him win. 

" _Cyar'ika_ ," he moaned, his mouth finding your own. "I'm- _I'm_ \--f- _uck_ , fuck _fuck_ , I'll fucking--I'll f- _ucking_ split y--split this sweet little c-cunt--" His whole body went taut beneath you, ramming his cock up to meet you over and over. "You take me so... _s-so_ _fucking_ good, so good, so good t' me--" The wet sounds, the _heat_ of his body against your own in his frenzied fucking and the way that his voice cracked combined to be the thing that finally tipped the two of over the edge. As you felt him start to let go, you took one of your hands and fisted it in the thick hair at the nape of his neck, directing him to look down at where your bodies joined.

"I want you t-to watch. Without the helmet." You panted,  _ feeling _ more than hearing his raspy groan in reply. "So you can remember."

"I'm not going to f-- _ orget _ , fuck,  _ fuck _ , like I could e-ever for-g-get  _ this _ \--" The words stumbled out of his mouth, tangled in a dazed little knot, "--ever forget  _ you _ ." His body shuddered and he finally ground to a halt, dragging you against his chest and burying his face in your shoulder as he came with a hoarse shout. 

You circled your hips on his still-twitching cock, your own orgasm close behind from how hard he had been pounding up into you. His voice sounded destroyed when he cried out, and you couldn't determine whether he was begging for mercy or more. His free hand fumbled between the two of you to tease one of your nipples; you could do nothing to help the pitiful noise you made when he pinched and tugged at the sensitive bud. 

"Come for me. C-Come for me.  _ Come for me _ ." Whether a plea or an order, it was unavoidable. You came for him, the intensity making your skin prickle and your eyes open wide behind his hand. " _ Yes _ ..." He drew the word out alongside your keening moan of completion, long and slow, praising you in that husky, now almost  _ reverent _ tone. 

You collapsed into him and you felt his mouth curve against your neck, stubbled smile teasing the skin while you fought to regain your breath. His arm reached for something on the floor, and you heard the slide of his helmet after a moment. Then, he removed his palm from your eyes. 

The Mandalorian grunted softly and there was a delicate crackling noise beside your ear. " _ Fuck _ , that's a cramp." He grimaced, making you huff out a laugh. "Ow,  _ ow _ . My wrist is...not pleased."

"Mm, should have just taken the chance." You mused, your eyes still closed. 

"Chancy enough, getting this naked." He flicked over your nipple, chuckling softly when you whined. "Gods, you are  _ perfect _ ." He murmured. "I'll miss this."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You sat up slowly, staring at his visor. "Why? Wh-Where-?"

"I don't know how sideways all of this will go." He replied simply. "I have a gut feeling."

Your hands fisted in his liner shirt. "So don't go, then."

"You know it's not that simple. If I don't, they'll keep hunting the kid."

"We can hide!" You suggested wildly. "Stay in the Outer Rim, hunker down on Dathomir or Felucia-"

"Until what?" His pragmatism cut you to the quick. "Until the  _ Crest _ falls apart and we end up stranded in some asteroid field?" You fell silent, your fingers kneading at his chest in a silent plea,  _ don't go _ . "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to drag you along this time. Whether you agree or not, I'm  _ not _ involving you."

It felt like he had just stolen all the air out of your body, tears welling up in your eyes as those traitorous arms wrapped around you. His palms were large and warm, rubbing firm circles into the abruptly-cold skin of your back. You were suddenly awash with shame, and you pulled away from his comforting embrace. He made a noise, almost a protest, but you shook it off and struggled to stand. 

"Easy, hang on to me. You'll fall over." He offered, his hand already out for you to grab. You ignored it in favor of jerking your panties back up your legs, nearly toppling with the effort. "Hey, you-"

"Don't touch me." You breathed, seconds from bursting into tears. "Just...just don't." You felt disgusting,  _ sore _ , your body aching and tender from the overstimulation it had just received. 

A soft, "oh," was all he gave in reply. His voice sounded defeated and more than anything you wanted to fling yourself back at him, to beg forgiveness and also  _ kill him _ because how could he do this to you?  _ How _ could he give everything to you and then take it all away in an instant?

You refused to look at him while you continued to dress yourself, certain that your incredibly fragile resolve would give out if you saw him tilting his head or any of the  _ other _ little things he did that had wormed their way into your heart. But you were also seized with the fierce desire to wound him like he had wounded you. 

And so, as you turned to climb down the ladder you tossed out a flippant, haughty, " _ This is the Way _ , right?" 

You heard him inhale raggedly. "I--wait,  _ please _ , just-"

You didn't stay to let him finish, continuing down the ladder.

…

This was  _ technically _ your own fault, you reminded yourself for the hundredth time.  _ Technically _ . You could have let him leave the cockpit, but  _ no _ , you  _ had _ to grab his hand! Really, you had no one to blame but yourself.

That didn't stop you from feeling like a gross, terrible person, of course, but at least you knew  _ why _ . You felt stupid for thinking that you could convince him of anything other than what he had already decided upon. 

Cara seemed to sense that something was  _ wrong _ the following morning and she went out of her way to goad the Mandalorian into an arm wrestling match once the  _ Crest _ departed Arvala-7. It was a bit  _ cramped _ in the hold, what with the blurrgs and all, so you were a spectator whether you wanted to be or not.

The two of them posted up on top of a crate, their elbows firmly planted after they set their wagers. They slapped hands once and the child's ears perked up curiously. 

The former trooper and the bounty hunter locked into their holds as you looked on, a bit invested now. Carasynthia  _ somehow _ managed to keep the armored man at bay, unless the Mandalorian was going easy on her. Of course, she  _ had _ been a dropper. Lugging pounds and pounds of gear and artillery must have built strong arms. 

"I  _ got _ you, Mando." She grinned.

"Care to double the bet?" The beskar-wearing man shot back, and you hated that you could tell he was smiling.

The baby looked back and forth between the two grunting adults, and their tiny hand reached out towards Cara. "Looks like the kid is calling dibs on the next round." You commented, chuckling a little. But when you looked up, you saw Cara releasing the Mandalorian's hand to frantically claw at her own throat.

The Mandalorian was only still for a split-second before he bolted upright, lunging to haul the child out of their bassinet. "Stop it!" He berated them sharply. "We're friends, we're friends! Cara is my  _ friend! _ " 

"Hey!" You moved to take the child but the Mandalorian quickly shifted, maneuvering himself between the two of you. "What are you  _ doing? _ Stop yelling at them!" You protested, yanking on his arm.

"How very  _ curious _ ." Kuiil murmured, rising to his feet and moving to examine the child. The kid was just laying there, limp in the Mandalorian's grasp. Like they knew they had done something wrong. 

"I mean, that's one word for it." Cara coughed. "What the hell  _ was _ that?"

"What it is, I'm not certain. But that story you told me of the mudhorn is making a lot more sense." The Ugnaught mused to the Mandalorian. 

"Psh, you  _ would _ need the kid to help you cheat." Dune tried to joke, her voice rasping a little. "You  _ that _ scared of losing, Mando?"

"What story? What  _ mudhorn? _ What even just happened?" You demanded. 

"The kid did this... _ thing _ once before. I can't really explain it." The Mandalorian answered you curtly. "He just moved his hand and a fucking  _ full-grown _ mudhorn was three feet off the ground." 

"...excuse me, what?" You questioned weakly.

"He  _ also _ went into a coma sleep afterwards, guess he wore himself out." The Mandalorian shrugged, the kid peering over the side of his arm guiltily. "Maybe...maybe he thought Dune was a threat or something. Thought we were fighting for real." 

"You little  _ nugget _ , you really thought I was screwing with your dad?" Cara asked incredulously, reaching out and rubbing over one of the child's ears. "I tangled with your pops once, remember? He almost died." 

"Not how I recall it." The Mandalorian growled, his pride clearly pinched. "We were at a stalemate if anything."

The child whimpered, holding their arms out to you. Despite now being privy to the incredibly frightening knowledge that  _ oh, they can move things with their mind, they can choke a full-grown human out _ , you could still feel yourself softening. The eyes got you every time.

The Mandalorian, who had been watching you warily, muttered, "you don't have to if you don't--"

" _ Stop _ ." You interrupted him sharply. "They're not a bomb." He fell silent, passing you the kid without further debate. They settled into your arms, staring up at you while you rocked back and forth. You began to hum their lullaby softly, hoping to get them to sleep at  _ some _ point during this flight. 

"I need your help." You glanced up, disappointment searing in your chest when you realized the Mandalorian was addressing Kuiil. You then proceeded to berate yourself for the hope you had in the first place. 

He had made his choice and, in doing so, he had made  _ your _ choice as well. There was nothing you could do to change his mind.  _ Obviously _ . The best you could do was return to your mundane existence on Nevarro. Maybe once you were there you could hitch a ride on another freighter, leave the whole planet in the dust and get on with your life.

…

You tucked the baby in for what you knew was the last time, stroking your fingers over their little head. 

The  _ Razor Crest _ sat silent amongst the lava rivers, all illumination and non-essential mechanics off so as not to arouse suspicion or garner unwanted attention. To the best of your knowledge, everyone aside from you was already asleep. The blurrgs had been offloaded and secured outside; you could still hear them shuffling about as they chewed their cud. 

The Mandalorian's rendezvous with his contact wasn't until tomorrow, but you didn't  _ exactly _ feel like trying to explain your departure to everyone in the crisp gray light of a Nevarro morning.

It was better this way. It always was.

You picked up the small pack you had stowed in the bunk, as well as your toolbelt. After one final look at the child, you slowly felt your way towards the door. The lights in the hold were disabled, so all you had to navigate by was the faint orange glow from the distant lava.

You froze when you saw him standing next to the loading ramp, his shoulders rigid and arms crossed over his chest. The void of his visor bored into you, and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking.

After a moment of the two of you standing there in silence, he sighed and tapped a few of the keys on his gauntlet. The loading ramp began to slowly open, segmented plates extending with a hiss of hydraulics. You shifted your weight nervously and opened your mouth but he held up a hand, stopping you before you could even start.

He simply gestured at the ramp, all that beskar for once not making a sound. 

You crept forward, wary of him for the first time in a long time. Before you managed to get past him though, he tilted his head. Two fingers pressed against his breastplate, drawing a circle. Then, he tapped his knuckles in the center. 

_ Stay safe _ .

You wanted to scream.

"Yeah." You managed to choke out instead. Your hand moved of its own accord, running down your leg to your boot where you tugged the vibroblade free and held it out. "Won't need this anymore."

That  _ stupid _ visor felt like it was staring into your soul. He took the knife back after a moment. He was blatantly,  _ obviously _ careful not to actually touch your skin, using his index and thumb to gingerly pinch down on the handle. 

You gave him an awkward nod and continued out onto the ramp, your boots hitting the obsidian ground with a  _ thud _ . 

You didn't turn around, no matter how much you wanted to.


	8. Savior At High Noon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

You walked through the night and on into the next day, only stopping briefly for short breaks or to halfheartedly gnaw at a tasteless ration bar. You hadn't actually  _ meant _ to go for so long without a proper rest, but it was as though your legs had a mind of their own. You just kept putting one foot in front of the other, studiously avoiding the thoughts that threatened your fragile emotional state.

When you finally arrived at the city gates as the sun was setting, you were momentarily confused to see two stormtroopers posted there.  _ Oh, right. That message mentioned something like this _ .

"Chain code." One of them ordered as you approached, his scanner already out.

"Uh." Your voice rasped dryly and you winced, clearing your throat. "Um, let me…" You wearily dug through several of your pouches before you finally located the battered card, holding it out to the trooper. He scanned it silently, held it up to the light, and then handed it back with a nod. 

"Don't cause any trouble, drifter." His modulated voice sent a sad little tremor of familiarity through your body. You trudged past the sentries, feeling exhaustion burn at your eyes.  _ Maker _ , you could use a nap. What time was it? 

Slogging your way through the sand, you waved to a few people you  _ did _ recognize, well on your way to sleeping wherever you stopped next. The sheer  _ number _ of stormtroopers around was something that you knew you ought to find concerning, but at the moment you couldn't muster up the ability to care.

Aside from that, this was normal. This was what you knew, comfortable in its familiarity. The clunky droids, the sand in your boots, the whirring grind of hoverskiff engines.

Normal. 

You finally landed beneath a rare unoccupied overhang in an alley, your small pack clutched to your chest as you curled up on your side in the sand. 

_ Normal _ .

This was what you had wanted to return to when all of this started out, you reminded yourself sternly while you wrapped up in your cloak. Stability. Safety. Work. 

_ Why _ did your chest ache so much?

Your shoulders heaved as you sucked in a breath, the pack you held seeming too heavy. The child hadn't been heavy at all. Negligible, even. You wondered where they would go after all of this was sorted out, whether the Mandalorian would come back regularly once the Guild was reinstated and his record was expunged.

The galaxy would keep on spinning, despite your weary ruminations.

_ I'll never see him again, will I? Him or the child. _

Overhead, the stars began to reveal themselves one after another as night descended upon the small city, and you slowly lost the fight with the tears that you had been holding back since you left the cockpit.

_ This is the Way _ . 

...

A dull rumble roused you from your uneasy slumber, and you briefly feared that there was a storm coming. The beaming sunlight seemed to contraindicate that notion, though. You squinted upwards, trying to gauge the time. It would appear that you had slept through the night; if you had to guess, you would say it was nearly noon.

Your stomach growled and you sat up slowly, digging around in your pack for the bar that you had forsaken the day prior.

A black ship roared by overhead and your eyes widened, certain that-- 

_ What the hell was that?! _ You pinched the skin of your inner arm, then swore loudly at the pain. Several more rumbles echoed through the streets, and now you could dimly pick up the rattle of automatic blaster fire. Armed conflicts were not  _ unheard of _ , but never on a scale like this. It sounded like a full-blown invasion!

You scrambled to your feet, your pack abandoned on the ground. After a moment of hesitation where you thought better of  _ whatever _ it was that you planned on doing, you set off running towards the commotion. 

The ruckus seemed to be moving steadily in the direction of the town cantina. Your own path took you parallel to the main thoroughfare and after a few moments, you caught a fleeting glimpse of the IG unit zipping past. 

_ What? _

You skidded to a stop, then changed direction to emerge out onto the main road. It  _ was _ IG-11, the spindly droid astride a speeder bike taking out stormtroopers left and right. "IG!" You yelled, waving your arms to get its attention.

The droid didn't pause in its fire even as it greeted you, eyes rotating to catch any and all encroaching threats. "There has been a change in the plan." IG-11 said calmly. "Kuiil has been terminated. I would advise you to pick up a weapon and assist me in defending the child."

_ Kuiil has been terminated _ . Your heart broke, but you barely had time to register the grief. "You have the  _ baby?! _ " You gasped, noticing the pack around the droid's torso as you did. 

"Of course. I have been programmed to protect."

You rushed to yank free one of the plastoid armor sections from a fallen stormtrooper, ending up with the whole sleeve shucked off in your hands. It was no beskar, but hopefully it would help. You had seen the Mandalorian defend his head by simply shifting his shoulder. If you used that same technique, you  _ might _ be able to get away with lugging less armor along. 

You pulled the armor up over your shoulder, the black body-sleeve gripping your bare arm tightly. A standard-issue blaster settled into your hands, clunky and unfamiliar but you would make it work. You had no real choice in the matter. You nodded stiffly up at the IG unit, who revved the speeder bike. "I cannot wait for you. It is imperative that I make my way forward with haste." The droid informed you.

"I get it. You go on, I'll follow." You replied, reaching out for one indulgent second to cup the baby's cheek. They were simply watching silently from the satchel, those huge eyes looking slightly dazed. A bruise darkened the skin over their left eye. "Take care of them.  _ Please _ ."

"Of course." IG-11 sped off in a cloud of dust and you squared your shoulders. 

Well. You couldn't say that a plan not going properly was anything  _ new _ . 

You trailed along after the capable droid, striding across the sandy streets with renewed purpose. Few stormtroopers escaped IG-11's blaster shots and if they did, your own soon finished them off. Every pull of the trigger was pragmatic, removed from you but still holding weight. You refused to dwell on the carnage at this moment. Later, there would be time. Just like for Kuiil. Time to grieve, time to process...

You checked your ammunition and kept moving, your eyes scanning the sand clouds ahead. You were approaching the town square, the locale of the cantina which served as the hub for the Guild on Nevarro. Blaster shots lit up the dust, red lines crisscrossing again and again. It sounded like the fighting was at its thickest here. 

You forced your legs to keep carrying you forward when an explosion rippled through the air like thunder, refusing to be immobilized by your fear (no matter how much you  _ wished _ you could be!). Your shaky fingers shoved a new canister of blaster gas into your pilfered rifle as you peered around the corner of the closest structure, trying to make sense of the chaotic scene in front of you through the haze of dust and smoke.

Stormtroopers scattered to and fro, their ranks disjointed. You kept to the edge of the square, doing your best to avoid the fray that raged in the center. Not exactly a  _ difficult _ task, seeing as the only person everyone had it out for was an achingly familiar,  _ deafeningly _ loud instrument of death clad in highly-reflective armor. 

The Mandalorian had an  _ entire _ E-web gun  _ in his hands _ , holding it like some kind of battering ram. How he even managed to  _ lift _ it was a mystery in and of itself! The stand for it stood nearby, forlorn and empty. The old cantina looked like it had taken the brunt of the assault from the weapon before it had been... _ commandeered _ . 

The armored man widened his stance and you were  _ just _ close enough to hear him scream, " _ Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu! _ ", his voice raw with fury. The E-web repeater spun up like a gatling gun, chewing through the stormtroopers with a vengeance. The Mandalorian didn't stop shouting in Mando'a, beskar plate sending out spark showers from all the haphazard shots aimed his way. His boots stomped rhythmically against the ground, shoulders squared and head tilted downwards as he swung the gun in a wide semi-circle.

You caught a brief glimpse of Cara in the cantina doorway, her borrowed Bren drum-fed blaster pounding away at the stormtroopers. Over her head was an older man dual-wielding a set of pistols, his deadly accurate shots booming loudly through the automatic rattle. 

You raised your own rifle, settling the stock against your shoulder and carefully leading your targets. If there had been  _ one _ thing you learned on Sorgan, it was to be cautiously aggressive. You aimed for knees, exploiting the weakest area in the trooper armor to topple them quickly and leave them floundering in the sand.

So thorough was your focus, you nearly missed the man swathed in black. 

His cape billowed out behind him, a void in the sandy chaos. He was clearly a leader of some sort, the way he carried himself and the fact that he moved through the battlefield with no  _ helmet _ enough to give you pause. You lined your rifle up almost on instinct to take a shot at his unprotected head, flinching when he stopped moving and you lost your bead on him. By the time you had relocated your target, a stormtrooper had posted up alongside him. You swore, about to adjust downwards to deal with the trooper first.

Your attention was snagged on the way by the commander's service blaster raising. You followed the line of his shot with your eyes, realizing where it was headed a second before he fired. 

Your mind scrambled for a solution and you cried, " _ Aru'e! _ ", though you knew there was no way he could even hear you.  _ Enemy ahead! _

You saw the Mandalorian's helmet jerk up at the word and he stopped dead, staring  _ directly _ at you while the E-web chewed uselessly through a section of masonry off to the left. You could  _ feel _ it, even through the glossy black of his visor; he  _ heard _ you, he  _ saw _ you. He knew you were there. 

His shoulders slumped, defeated. 

" _ Nari! _ " You screamed, making a shoving gesture,  _ move! _ But he didn't. It was like he was rooted in place.

The commander's bolt cracked into the Mandalorian's helmet at close range, the ringing blow staggering the beskar-wearing man instead of dispersing over the armor. 

And as the Mandalorian struggled to turn, slicing a wide and clumsy circle back with the E-web, the commander lowered his blaster to aim for the power supply still attached to the vacant tripod. 

With a simple pull of the trigger the entire tripod exploded forcefully, black shrapnel flying outwards in a deadly haze. You couldn't help your distressed cry as the Mandalorian was pitched violently back from the fiery blast. 

Once he hit the ground, he didn't move. 

_ Get up _ , you begged mentally.  _ Please get up. Please don't be dead.  _ **_Please._ ** Your vision blurred with tears, grief threatening to swallow you whole as he continued to just... _ lay _ there, his flight suit smoking slightly. Then…

Then, you gritted your teeth.

" _ Cara! _ " You yelled, straining to be heard over the cacophony of gunfire. The woman started visibly, glancing around until her eyes landed on you. " _ Cover me! _ " You requested, drawing your old knife.

She tapped her ear and nodded to indicate that she understood. Then, she let out a war whoop, her auto rifle throwing slugs over your head to take out your pursuers. Meanwhile, you took the path of most resistance and least distance. 

_ Dodge _ .  _ Jump. Roll. Onto stomach. Back up. Kick shin. Knife, knife, done. Keep moving! _

Several blaster bolts whined by your face, throwing up clouds of sand to your left with a loud  _ pank! _ You hurriedly raised your shielded arm to protect your head.

_ Off the barrel. Good! Jump. Knife to the neck. Too close. Behind the crate! Rifle to the head,  _ **_pull_ ** _ one two, done. Keep moving! _

You weren't sure if you were imagining Cara coaching you through these skirmishes, but you could  _ hear _ her voice yelling instructions and suggesting movements all the same just like on Sorgan,  _ pick up your  _ **_fucking_ ** _ feet rookie! _

A stormtrooper's plastoid was made for taking blaster energy. It was  _ not _ made for the blunt force trauma you inflicted with the spine of your heavy old knife or the stock of the rifle. White shards flew every time you struck, and every strike was a new opening for Cara to take advantage of.

Two shots grazed your shielded arm, distributing over the plastoid with a crackle of wasted effort. You barely noticed, your eyes fixed on the shimmering beskar of the Mandalorian. It gleamed and twinkled in the desert sun like a mirage; the sheer volume of the material alone was worth a king's ransom, but the  _ real _ prize you were after was the man wearing it. 

_ I'm going to save you _ .

Something clipped your side and your stride faltered, the impact making you stumble and almost fall. You didn't have  _ time _ for pain at that point, shoving it down to deal with later,  _ the adrenaline will hold the pain! _ Your heated advance had clearly been noted, but now the IG unit was also running interference for you, tipping the odds even further in your favor. You slung your blaster around by its tote strap and gathered yourself for one last burst of speed, your legs burning as you forced yourself to outrun the scattered gunfire trained on you.

_ I have to make it _ . 

Skidding to a halt beside the Mandalorian's body, you hurriedly sheathed your knife, dug your fists in beneath his shoulders and  _ ripped _ him backwards with all your might. His cape aided you in your adrenaline-fueled struggle, ensuring that the edges of his beskar wouldn't catch on the sand. You stayed half-crouched, using his armor as a shield while you slowly,  _ slowly _ dragged him back to the cantina. 

You hadn't had the time to ruminate on whether he was alive or not, so hellbent to just get him off the battlefield that you almost missed him slamming his gauntlet against his hip like he was chambering a round. 

Flames poured out of the thrower on his forearm, engulfing two troopers that you hadn't spotted on your left. "Thanks!" You gasped.

"W-What are you--" His speech was labored, barely-there. "T- _T-old_ y-y' to _st-stay_ _s--afe_..."

"As you can see I'm doing  _ great _ at listening to you!" You nearly lost your grip, straining to move him quicker before screaming in frustrated panic, "Why the  _ fuck _ do you wear so much  _ fucking _ armor?!"

" _ Please _ \--j-just..."

"Be  _ quiet! _ " You yelled, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Cara was suddenly beside you, the shadowy doorway of the cantina a looming sanctuary over your head. The shock trooper grabbed one of the Mandalorian's arms, taking some of his weight to help you haul him deeper into the cantina.

"Stay with me buddy!" Dune encouraged him, "We're gonna' get you out of here!"

"This is our only path out, can you clear it?" That older man asked the IG unit, gesturing frantically at one of the ventilation grates. You recognized his voice from the message you had heard, the one that had sent the Mandalorian into a silent fury, but you were drawing a blank on his name. Karga, possibly?

"Certainly." The droid replied cordially, bending down in front of the indicated grate. A small cutting torch flared to life in its hand and it began what promised to be the somewhat arduous process of searing through the thick grating.

"And  _ you! _ I don't know what the hell you were thinking, running out there like that!" The older man turned to scold you. "Nobody's worth that loyalty, you hear me?!" He paused, then continued, "aside from...well, maybe one or two people." He stuck his hand out. "Greef Karga, chairman of the Bounty Hunter's Guild on Nevarro."

You clumsily shook the pro-offered hand, still moving the Mandalorian. "Wish we could have met under better circumstances." 

"Too true!" He agreed, shaking his head. "What a  _ mess _ you made of things, Mando. You and that baby are a menace."

"I'm n-not gonna' make it," the Mandalorian coughed when you and Cara managed to prop him up against a ruined table. " _ Go- _ "

"Shut up, you'll be fine! You just got your bell...rung." Dune's sure tone faded and when you looked over, you realized her hand was brick red with blood from where she had cupped the back of his neck. Glancing down, you found out to your horror that your own palms were liberally streaked with the substance as well. Fear raked its claws down your spine and you saw your hands start to tremble even  _ harder _ .

" _ Leave  _ m-e." The armored man pleaded, his voice rasping.

"I'm gonna' need to take this thing off." Cara reached urgently for the side of his helmet.

His gauntlet slammed shut on her wrist, hard enough that she winced visibly. " _ No _ . Y' leave me. Y' make sure the child is safe." He fumbled at his neck, tearing loose a small pendant that was shaped like the skull of a strange beast. "H-Here. When you get to the Mandalorian covert, you show them th-- _ at _ ."

Your confusion was probably plastered on your face ( _ Mandalorian covert? _ ), but Cara nodded like she understood. 

"You tell 'em…" He paused, wheezing stridor rattling loudly in his chest. "Y' tell 'em it's fr-from...D-Din Djarin..."  _ His name, his name. _ You felt sick with the realization, your eyes going wide in shock. "You tell 'em the Foundling was in my pr-protection, and they'll help you." He instructed, pressing the pendant into your hand.

"We can  _ make _ it." Cara assured him, glancing worriedly at you for confirmation. 

You were already moving to haul his arm up over your shoulder again. "C'mon, let's go!" You encouraged, his dead weight dragging hard at your back.

"I'm not  _ gonna' _ m-ake it, n' you know it." The Mandalorian wheezed. His hand covered your own, rolling your fingers into a fist around the pendant. 

Flames abruptly poured through the cantina door, forcing both you and Cara to duck down against the armored man. When you raised your head again, the cantina was ablaze. "They're trying to burn us out, Imp  _ fucks! _ " Cara snarled, her hand clenching down on one of the Mandalorian's pauldrons. "Can't that droid cut through the grate any faster?!" She shouted at Karga.

"You're more than welcome to assist it, with the torch that you  _ don't  _ have!" Greef retorted.

"Y' protect the child. I can h-hold them back long enough to help you escape," the Mandalorian panted. "Let me die a w--arrior's death." 

"We're  _ not _ leaving you!" Cara insisted.

You echoed her sentiment softer, pushing your forehead against his. "Can you see me?" You whispered, staring through his visor.

"Y-Yeah." He gasped after a momentary pause. 

"I'm  _ not _ leaving you alone in the dark." You heard his breath hitch with a sob and you bit your lip, quelling your own tears. "I'm right here with you." You drew your thumb down your chest, and then tapped your chin.  _ I promise _ . "I'm here."

A second gout of fire roared into the cantina, nearer this time. Bottles of liquor began to explode nearby from the heat, various amber browns and neon blue spotchka feeding the flames. "Why won't y'...you're going t'... _ p-lease _ -"

"I  _ said _ , I'm  _ with _ you." You shook your head, trying vainly to imbue your next words with some sort of apologetic tone, "this is the Way."

"This i-is the W-ay." He echoed brokenly. His hand grasped at your arm, clinging for dear life despite imploring you to leave.

There was the sharp clatter of durasteel. You heard Cara start swearing a blue streak, which prompted you to glance behind you. The horrifying sight of a flame trooper was what met your eyes, the stripes on their armor turned blood red in the smokey haze of the cantina. They leveled their flamethrower and you realized that the  _ child _ , the child was between you and the stormtrooper. 

You lunged for them just as the trooper pressed down on the trigger, knowing in your mind that there was no plausible way you would be able to save them. Hell, even yourself, or Cara,  _ or _ the Mandalorian. You were all in the blast zone. 

It was futile. But you still moved. 

Your hands outstretched to pick up the child. The heat alone stole your breath. Maybe you could toss them, get them out of harm's way--

The flamethrower blast roiled and seethed forward, but then...it just stopped in midair. Hovering, a massive fireball, a miniature sun. When you saw the child's arms extended out in front of it, somehow you knew that  _ they _ were what held it at bay.

Their tiny hand made a gesture, a simple motion of the wrist and the fireball soared backwards, engulfing the unsuspecting flametrooper. With a blast of backdraft, the trooper's fuel tank exploded and rocketed the body back out through the cantina door.

The child sat down heavily, then slumped to the side, their eyes rolling shut.

A loud  _ clang _ echoed through the boiling room. It appeared that the IG unit had managed to get through the grate, the robot finally kicking it out of the way. 

"We're through! Come on, let's go!" Karga urged.

IG-11 clattered forwards over the flaming debris, carefully scooping up the child's limp form before you could shake off your shock. "Escape and protect the child. I will administer aid to the Mandalorian, and they shall assist me." The IG unit instructed calmly, metal pincers safely depositing the unconscious baby in Cara's waiting arms.

You tugged free the piece of fabric she appeared to have been using to cover her tattoo, rushing to tie it around your head. "Keep them safe,  _ please _ ." You implored her, running a hand over the unconscious child's head. You tucked the Mandalorian's pendant into their robes as an afterthought.

Cara's eyes went steely and she leaned in, forehead hitting yours as she demanded in her best trooper voice, "promise me you'll bring him.  _ Drag _ him if you have to."

"You have my word." The IG unit answered for the both of you. You nodded in agreement, watching Cara and Greef flee through the destroyed grate before you pulled the cloth down over your eyes. Effectively blinded, you knelt in the sand and groped forward until you found the beskar-wearing man's arm.

"Y'  _ have _ to go." The Mandalorian begged desperately, weakly shoving at your chest in an attempt to push you towards the grate. " _ P-lease _ …"

"We must remove his helmet if we are to save him." IG-11 stated.

You heard the sound of a blaster priming. "Try it n' I'll kill you. Blow your goddamn neural harness to Endor. I-It is.  _ Forbidden _ ." The armored man seethed through his teeth. "No living thing has seen me without this helmet si-since I--" He had to stop, a wet cough interrupting his speech. "-since I swore the Cr-- _ eed _ ."

"I am not a living thing." The robot pointed out pragmatically. "And they have covered their eyes. Out of respect for your traditions, I hypothesize." 

"We need to take care of you. Please." You found the hand that held the blaster and you wrapped your shaking fingers around it tightly. Now that your audience was gone the panic  _ surged _ through your body, threatening to send you into hysterics at any moment while you clung to the last shreds of your composure. " _ Please _ ." You begged frantically.  _ I don't want you to die. _ "The kid needs you." 

**_I_ ** _ need you. I love you. I'm so sorry _ .

You felt him yield at the same time that you heard IG-11 move, the reformed bounty droid tugging at the beskar helmet. "I require assistance." It stated after a momentary struggle. "The surface is deceptively smooth."

You ran your hands over the Mandalorian's arm, working your way up to the base of his neck and resting just beneath the edge of his helm. You knew you were running out of time. Even now the flames grew hotter and hotter on your back, the air around you becoming unbearable with smoke. "Here, put your fingers on the edges instead. I can't actually be the one to take it off, so hold it like this."

You guided IG's less-certain metal claws to a better spot to grab, making sure that it wouldn't slip. The Mandalorian's shoulders tensed weakly, like he was waiting to be attacked. 

With a firm tug and that muffled hiss of air, the helmet came off. In the moment, it was no thing of gravitas. Clinical need overrode even the Creed he kept so close to his heart and here you were, blind and all business while you fended off your terror. 

He reached up shakily to brush his knuckles against the cloth you had covered your eyes with, a silent admission of trust. "You cryin'?" His voice still sounded so foreign without the modulator, husky but  _ clear _ , soft. 

"Don't worry about that right now." You moved on autopilot to support the back of his head, grimacing when you felt your fingers card through matted hair and immediately grow slick with blood. " _ Maker _ , okay, alright." You muttered, nausea making your stomach pitch as you gingerly maneuvered his head to the side so IG-11 could perform whatever interventions it had in mind.

"Can't really feel my legs." The man admitted hoarsely. "Fingers are...tingling. What I  _ can _ feel hurts like a-- _ h-ah _ , dammit." He struggled to inhale, another wet cough choking him.

There was a soft  _ ping _ . "This is a bacta spray. It will heal you in a matter of hours." IG-11 informed him.

You felt the armored man flinch when the bacta hit the open wound on the side of his head, hissing in a breath through his teeth.

"You have suffered damage to your central processing unit." The IG said bluntly.

"You...mean my brain." The Mandalorian murmured slowly after a beat. 

"That was a joke. It is meant to put you at ease." 

In spite of the peril that loomed, you were thrilled to hear a pained snort of amusement. Leather-clad fingers twined with your own. "Helmet." He pleaded. 

"Can we put his helmet back on? Are we all set?" You asked IG-11, squeezing the Mandalorian's hand in an attempt to comfort him.

"Better to do so. These open flames will not aid in the bacta absorption or ease of respiration." The robot replied. 

You felt around for the helm, burning your fingertips on the contoured surface before you managed to get it over the Mandalorian's face once again. You were startled when he clumsily cupped your jaw and pressed his helm to the cloth that covered your eyes. "I could kiss you, little mudhorn." He rasped through his modulator, clearly delirious on a combination of pain and strong drugs. 

"I would advise that you attempt such activities at a later time." The IG unit intoned. 

The Mandalorian then allowed you and the bounty droid to haul him upright, his fingers fighting with the cloth over your eyes before you helped him shove it up out of the way. His heated armor seared at your skin even through your clothes, but the pain was a background worry compared to your relief. 

He was  _ alive _ . Staggering, stumbling, most of his weight resting on either you or the spindly droid, but  _ alive _ . 

As you made your way through the tunnels beneath the city, his steps became more sure. " _ Damn _ , that bacta's got some kick to it." He remarked, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders out. "Hits like a blurrg to the gut."

"I would advise against strenuous activities while you heal." The droid droned.

"I'd  _ love _ to oblige you," The Mandalorian retorted sarcastically, "but I don't think I'll have the luxury." His hand rested on the top of your head, fingers buried in your hair. 

When you finally caught up with Cara and Greef, the former soldier met the three of you with a grin of relief. "They'll have to try harder than that to keep you down!" She crowed, thumping a fist into the Mandalorian's shoulder.

The Mandalorian's response was a wry, "I'd rather they didn't." 

...

Now reunited, the group of you traversed ahead. Despite being a little turned around, the Mandalorian quickly latched onto the correct path to the aforementioned covert. Progress grew more expedient as his body absorbed the bacta properly, the hunter soon able to walk unaided. 

Your rushed exodus came to an abrupt halt, however, when you stumbled upon a  _ pile _ of beskar armor. 

The Mandalorian stopped dead in his tracks, and then sank to one knee. Shaking hands reached out and plucked a helmet from the pile, his thumb rubbing against the black sharding left over from where the visor had shattered.

Everyone huddled together in silence, not really  _ wanting _ to interrupt the clearly-grieving man, but knowing too well that the Imperials would be overrunning the tunnels shortly.

"We should go." Cara finally murmured. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder between his cowling and pauldron, squeezing to let him know that you were there.

"You go. Take the ship." The armored man replied brokenly. "I...I can't leave it this way." You felt his shoulder tense up under your touch and you instinctively braced for impact. "Did you know about this?" He breathed, the inquiry directed at Karga. "Is this the work of your  _ bounty hunters? _ " The title sounded like a curse, dripping with hatred.

"Of course not!" Greef protested. "When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended. The hunters just...melted away. You know how it is. They're mercenaries, not zealots!"

" _ Did you do this?! _ " The Mandalorian raged, shaking your hand off as he lunged upright and turned on the Guild leader. " _ Did you?! _ " 

"It was  _ not _ his fault." said a stern female voice. Another Mandalorian emerged from a side tunnel, her majestic bronze helm adorned with small horn-like protrusions. She wore a cuirass beneath her armor that had a luxurious pelt around the neck (possibly nexu?), giving her the illusion of sporting a thick mane. 

You did your best not to gawk, though you had the feeling you were unsuccessful. She carried herself almost like Cara, but more  _ refined _ , almost regal.

"We revealed ourselves. We knew what would happen if we left the covert." Leather-gloved hands reached into the pile and reverently picked up a breastplate, which she proceeded to deposit onto an already-loaded hoverskiff. "The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter." She gestured down at the armor. "This...is what resulted." Her voice was soft with grief.

"Did any survive?" The Mandalorian rasped desperately.

"I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world."

The Mandalorian looked down at the pile and then jerked his helmet back up. "Come with us." He implored.

" _ No _ ." She replied disdainfully, almost as if she was scolding him for even  _ daring _ to suggest such a thing. "I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains." She then turned on her heel, beckoning for the group to follow her into the side room. 

As the others trailed along behind her, you dallied just outside the doorway. With a hand pressed to your side, you took a shaky inhale. It was beginning to hurt to breathe, but only just. Like the adrenaline was dulling the pain. You didn't want to actually  _ look _ at the wound for fear that it was worse than you thought, so you carefully shifted your cloak to hang over your side. 

There. Out of sight, out of mind. 


	9. Swan Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains character death and depictions of vomit/bile. Stay safe!]

While the Armorer spoke quietly with the Mandalorian at length and continued to smelt the reclaimed armor down, you remained out in the hallway with the IG unit to scan for threats. You couldn't bring yourself to go into the forge and just  _ sit _ quietly like Karga and Cara, your whole body still buzzing with the vestiges of the huge rush of adrenaline you had received earlier. 

The robot's many sets of eyes swiveled back and forth, silently observing the tunnel in front of you. It also seemed to take note of your fidgeting. "Never fear. I am programmed to protect." The droid assured you. 

"As comforting as that is…" you grimaced, obsessively checking your blaster over yet again. "I'd feel much better if we didn't have to fight. Or if we had decent cover. I never know what will explode." An explosion echoed faintly down the tunnel as if in response to your words and you went rigid. You gripped the blaster even tighter, feeling the stock dig into your palm.

"I would advise not shooting at the inanimate objects to avoid possible damage."

"Wonderful." You muttered, a reluctant grin making its way onto your face. " _ This _ is why I prefer my knife."

"If you would like to attempt such an inadvisable tactic, I am unable to stop you." The droid commented. 

" _ No _ , no no. I promise I won't be that dumb." Your laugh was too high, choking off in your throat when you caught sight of several headlamps down the tunnel.

"Engaging the enemy." IG-11 announced, the spindly ex-bounty hunter droid striding forward into the spillway with  _ purpose _ .

"IG, wait!" You protested. "How am I supposed to-"

"Do not worry about hitting me. Aim for them." The robot interrupted you calmly.

" _ Aim for them _ , no shit!" 

You knelt beside one of the many, possibly-explosive crates, tucking the stock of your rifle up against your shoulder. You then used the flat surface to steady the gun as best as you could, gritting your teeth probably a  _ bit _ too hard. 

IG-11 was a force to be reckoned with. The droid barely even needed you, only once caught off-guard by one of the  _ eight _ troopers that bore down on it like an unstoppable (but ultimately doomed) wave. 

One well-placed shot from you blew that particular stormtrooper's elbow out, making him scream in agony. You froze at the sound, your body stiffening before you could fight it off.  _ How many men had you killed today? _ You had pushed it down, shoved the thought away, but-

IG-11 spiraled and struck with terrifying accuracy, it's blaster searing a hole in the side of the last trooper's helmet. "You have been protected." The droid droned quietly. It went on to ask, "Were you harmed?"

"No, n-no, I'm...I'm fine." You breathed. "Sorry, I get all…" 

"You did well. It is advisable to use cover at any and all opportunities." IG-11 mused sagely. 

"No kidding."

A nerve-wracking five minutes later the Mandalorian  _ finally _ walked back out of the forge area, Dune and Karga close behind. "We push forward." The armored man said, answering your unspoken question. "We'll hit the river, and it'll take us to the flats. All we can do now is hope that the Imps won't head us off." 

Karga passed a large, square object off to IG-11 while the Mandalorian spoke. The boosters on the bottom of it seemed to indicate that it was a portable jet pack of some kind. You  _ also _ saw a shiny new addition to the Mandalorian's pauldron.

"What's…?" You trailed off, gesturing at the insignia that had been welded seamlessly to his armor. It looked like a stylized mudhorn, which, when you thought about it, suited him  _ immensely _ .

"My signet. I...I'm considered a clan now." The Mandalorian hesitated, his hand finding the child's in their little bundle of robes. "I have a Foundling in my care." His voice was warm, an almost  _ incredulous _ wonder shining through his words. "She used...she used some of your beskar to make it. The ingot that I took from you, I-I asked her to use it," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "I hope that's--i-is that alright? I'll compen-"

"It's  _ definitely _ alright." You interrupted him, nodding rapidly and certain that you were smiling like an idiot. "Don't even worry about that. Obviously, you guys can put it to better use than I ever could."

"Thank you." The Mandalorian said sincerely.

Greef suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. "How did  _ you _ get ahold of that ingot of beskar, anyhow?" He asked narrowly.

"I was paid with it when I got hired to clean his ship." You explained. "But I guess the person that hired me was  _ actually _ only interested in having me jimmy the boarding ramp open for them, because as soon as I got it open I was clocked with the ingot. They ended up leaving it with me, though. Maybe they didn't know what it was worth?"

The Mandalorian turned towards Karga and you could  _ feel _ him glaring, while Greef simply hummed and looked anywhere  _ but _ the glowering man. "Karga, did  _ you-? _ "

"Whatever it is, the answer is no! But I can't take responsibility for the actions of every hunter under me." The older man protested, waving his hands. "You know the rules, Mando,  _ no questions asked _ ."

" _ You _ were the only other person who got paid in beskar,  _ Karga _ ." The Mandalorian growled. "If I find out that it was one of-"

"We don't have time for you guys to have a beskar-based pissing match." Dune interjected, "we have to keep moving, or we're Imp chow. Squash your shit now or deal with it later."

"I apologize for anything my associates may have done to you that, er, caused you inadvertent discomfort." Karga addressed you hurriedly.

"Uh, I...forgive...you?" You replied, more than a little confused. 

"There, you see Mando? No issues here!" The Guild leader said brightly. The Mandalorian shook his head, growling something under his breath and then stalking off in the opposite direction.

...

The rickety old lava skiff, while originally half-welded to the dock, didn't stay stuck too long in the wake of Cara's heavy blaster fire. Karga quickly grabbed the side of the craft, steadying it before it could drift away from the dock.

"Watch your feet, it's molten lava." IG-11 warned. When you turned to give the robot an incredulous look, you saw the Mandalorian and Cara doing exactly the same thing. Your deadpan stare cracked a little and you were caught off-guard by a giggling fit, clumsily stumbling over the lip of the boat as the armored man followed after you.

" _ Fucking _ droids." The Mandalorian groaned while shaking his head, though he sounded less irritated and more amused.

The droid that normally piloted the skiff appeared to be out of commission, but it was no matter. Even though the lava moved slowly, it moved enough to carry the boat along with it.

The child was still limp in Cara's arms, the former dropship trooper absently rocking them back and forth. Weariness dragged at you as well, grey static slowly encroaching upon the corners of your eyes, but you did your best to push it away for the time being. You weren't sure how much longer you could get away with  _ that _ , though. Stars, once this was over you would sleep for a thousand years.

A sudden crackling noise behind you made everybody whirl, respective blasters and knives brandished. But it was just the ferry droid, emerging from the ashen lava that had entombed it. It held a punting pole in its hands and began to beep, sounding almost inquisitive.

The Mandalorian finally muttered, "I don't suppose anybody here speaks droid," his tone one of long suffering.

IG-11 helpfully supplied, "I believe he is asking where we would like to go." 

"Downriver. To the lava flat." Karga ordered. The droid gave a chirp of confirmation and jabbed its pole into the lava, propelling the boat onwards at a much less leisurely pace.

The Mandalorian sat down heavily beside you after a moment, his helmet in his hands. "I can't believe you came back." He mumbled. "I didn't think...I figured you wouldn't. Thought I did a pretty good job at ruining everything."

"I can't believe I did either, honestly." You answered him, wincing when you realized how bad that sounded. "Wait, no, I uh...I just mean I didn't really know what was going on. I followed the noise and found IG-11."

"So, nothing new." The Mandalorian replied, his voice wry. Then, he murmured, "my little mudhorn."

You shot him a confused glance from beneath your lashes, but for all you could tell he was staring at the floor of the boat. Your eyes shifted to the silvery signet on his pauldron, taking in the vicious contours of the mudhorn's silhouette.  _ I'm considered a clan now _ . 

"What will you do after we take care of this?" Your words were audacious in their optimism and you knew it. He knew it too, if his snort was anything to go by, but he humored you.

"I have to find the kid's people. I can't train him, he's...well, he's not really the Mando  _ type _ . But he's a Foundling in my care, so I'm to act as his father until I can either return him to his people or...or until he comes of age." The Mandalorian heaved a sigh. "And seeing as he's  _ fifty _ now, I don't think him coming of age is something that'll happen in my lifetime." His hand sought yours out on the bench seat after a moment. "If you...I mean, I  _ know _ that...uh, the kid likes you. So if you wanted, I'd...I'd  _ consider _ …" He trailed off, squeezing your wrist gently.

You opened your mouth to stammer  _ something  _ and then Greef inadvertently cut you off with an excited, "That's it! We're free!" The older man pointed ahead, indicating the daylight coming into view in the distance. You couldn't blame him for being relieved, really. This underground canal was  _ stifling _ .

But the Mandalorian was already shaking his head, fingers tapping at the button pad on his gauntlet. "No. No, we're not." He said bitterly, getting to his feet. "Stormtroopers. They're flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon." Your heart sank at his words. "They must know we're coming."

His shoulders slumped. You could  _ feel _ the exhaustion radiating off of him. He had almost  _ died _ , only for this to happen?

Cara, meanwhile, leaped into action. "Stop the boat." She demanded of the ferry droid, which just continued to chirp merrily to itself. "Hey, droid, I said  _ stop _ the boat!" She barked, storming towards the robot. "Hey, I'm  _ talking _ to you!" 

The droid carried on punting the boat forward and Cara grimaced, jamming her blaster into the vacant space between the droid's dome and body. One quick trigger pull sent the droid's head flying off with a loud  _ crack! _ , the dome hitting the lava and immediately beginning to melt. The child started awake at the noise, tiny fists waving wildly in the air.

The boat continued to roll downstream, slowly but surely carried by the flow's current. "We're still moving." Greef pointed out, his tone laden with dread.

Dune swore under her breath, turning to face the rest of the group. "Looks like we fight."

The Mandalorian scoffed, "There are too many." His hand absently tapped the side of his helmet and you read his fingers:  _ enemy ahead _ ,  _ five, five, five _ , so at least fifteen.

_ At least. _ Your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. It had been one thing when you were running along pell-mell with no actual  _ thought _ put into your actions, but  _ now _ -

"Well then what do you  _ suggest _ , because I can't surrender." Cara snapped, cringing when the kid started to whimper.

IG-11 suddenly spoke up. "They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child. This is unacceptable." It rose to its full height, proclaiming, "I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape."

"You don't have that kind of firepower, pal." The Mandalorian retorted. "You wouldn't even get to daylight."

The droid leveled him with a stare. "That is not my objective."

"We're getting close." Dune hauled you to your feet. "Saddle up." You obliged wordlessly, waiting until she turned away before you allowed yourself to grimace in pain.  _ Maker _ , your side hurt.

"I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer." The IG said calmly as you and Cara maneuvered around it and the Mandalorian to prepare what limited defenses you could muster. "If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct."

"What're you talking about?" The Mandalorian growled impatiently. 

"I'm not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed."

"Are we gonna' keep talking or are we gonna' get out of here?" Greef enquired, waving a hand at the molten riverbank.

"I can no longer carry this for you." The droid murmured, pressing the jet pack into the Mandalorian's unwilling grasp. "Nor can I watch over the child."

" _ Wait _ ." The armor-wearing man sounded like he was having trouble breathing. "You can't self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the child." Was he...was he  _ arguing _ with the droid? "That supersedes your manufacturer's protocol, right?" He reasoned desperately, his head tilted up to look at the spindly droid. When the robot didn't answer immediately, he pressed, " _ Right? _ "

"This is correct." IG-11 allowed.

He  _ was _ arguing. With a  _ droid _ . Stars, you saw something new every day. "Good. Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out." The Mandalorian ordered curtly, turning to check over his own weaponry. 

"Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The child will be lost." You watched the armored man's shoulders slump even lower beneath his pauldrons and cape, like an immense weight was pressing down on him. "Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive." The droid carried on relentlessly. You abruptly understood what it was saying, and despite your best efforts you felt tears sting your eyes. First Kuiil, now this?

"Listen, you're not going anywhere." The Mandalorian said sharply. "We  _ need _ you. Let's just come up with a-"

"Please tell me the child will be safe in your care." The IG unit requested. "If you do so, I can default to my secondary command."

"But…" the beskar-wearing man's voice faded to a hoarse whisper, "you'll be destroyed."

"And you will live, and I will have served my purpose."

" _ No _ , we need you."

"There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive." The droid said pragmatically.

"I'm not  _ sad _ ." The armored man denied gruffly. He was lying and everyone knew it. You could hear the tremor in his words.

"Yes you are. I'm a nurse droid. I've analyzed your voice." IG-11 reached out those metal fingers, gently running them over the baby's ear. Then, without further ado, the droid hoisted a leg over the side of the boat.

"IG-!" Karga began to protest, watching the droid sink into the lava. Flames licked upwards from the ex-bounty hunter's knee gaskets, but it doggedly headed for the light at the end of the tunnel. 

The Mandalorian stood still as a statue, just letting the droid go. You ended up burying your face in your hands, unwilling and mentally unable to observe what would happen. 

The ringing impact of beskar suddenly broke the silence and the Mandalorian began to sing, his words wrapped in a deep, mournful tone that sounded like it came from the center of his being. " _ Motir ca'tra nau tracinya, _ " His voice faltered. " _ Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a! Cuun hett su! _ " 

The droid's self-destructive explosion rocked the tunnel and you heard the Mandalorian's breath hitch, the noise sharp and pained even through the modulator. 

He then inhaled deeply, the words reverberating off the sides of the tunnel when he roared, " _ Cuun hett su! _ " and slammed his gauntlet against his breastplate once more.

The skiff slowly slipped through the archway and out into the smokey sunlight. Fifteen broken stormtroopers littered the black ground around the mouth of the canal, none left alive in the wake of IG-11's sacrifice. You scrubbed at your face in irritation, choking back your tears.  _ There will be time later _ , you promised yourself, time for Kuiil and the IG. Time to mourn them properly. You weren't permitted such time now and you knew it. People  _ needed _ you, they needed--

Without warning, that ship you had seen earlier buzzed by overhead, its powerful laser cannons sending chunks of half-coagulated lava flying into the air on either side of the canal. 

"Moff Gideon!" Dune shouted, the Bren blaster whirring to life. The TIE fighter's engines screamed and whined, the craft circling back around. A line of ground to the left of the skiff exploded, green lasers punching through the cooled lava. 

"He missed!" Greef sounded absolutely  _ thrilled _ .

"He won't next time." The Mandalorian replied grimly, loading a fresh canister into his heavy blaster.

"Hey, let's get the baby to do the magic hand thing!" Karga suggested, wiggling his fingers at the child. "C'mon baby, do the magic hand thing." The child stared up at him, waving their hand uncertainly. Greef sighed, "I'm out of ideas."

" _ I'm _ not." The Mandalorian snapped. He reached for the jet pack and you tugged his cape out of the way so he could attach it to his backplate. He pressed his forehead against your own briefly before he tapped at his gauntlet keypad, igniting the boosters for the pack.

"Here he comes!" Cara yelled, bracing herself back against one of the seats while her blaster roared away. Whoever Gideon was, he appeared to be coming  _ straight _ for the boat. The fighter wasn't slowing one iota. 

Right as you saw the TIE fighter's cannons begin to light up in preparation to fire, the Mandalorian punched the controls on his jet pack. The armored man  _ hurtled _ into the sky, easily clearing the TIE fighter and then shooting his grappling line at the back of the ship. 

Gideon took off with him in tow and Karga laughed incredulously, "you've  _ got _ to be kidding me!  _ That _ was your plan? Mando, you're a maniac!" He then grabbed onto the cooled lava wall that rose on the right side of the boat, fumbling his way up onto the relatively-sturdy riverbank with a muffled grunt of exertion. "Alright trooper, you're next." The older man said, extending a hand to help haul Cara out of the boat.

She too managed to get to solid ground, and she carefully sat the bundled child down for a moment before turning back to you. Cara held out her hand and Greef held out his. "C'mon rookie, get up here." She said with a tired grin. "We need good seats to watch your Mandalorian work his magic, right?" 

Your laugh caught in your throat, almost a sob, and you reached to clasp their hands. But then your breathing abruptly hitched as, in reply to the first tugs of the two individuals above you, the wound on your side made itself felt with a  _ vengeance _ . You panted, half-blinded by the sudden pain and knowing that you had gone full dead-weight.

"Use your  _ legs _ rookie, c'mon!" Cara complained, planting herself and slapping her other hand closed around your upper arm to help her leverage. You gritted your teeth and forced your body to cooperate in a last ditch effort to get you up onto the river banking. Despite that, you were still all but dragged the rest of the way, Dune and Karga  _ barely _ managing to muscle you to safety. "Look at him go!" Cara exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the sky.

As you tipped your head back to watch the TIE fighter skitter and weave through the air, the ground suddenly felt like it was tilting under your feet. Your ears started to ring and your knees trembled unsteadily, threatening to give out beneath you any second now while the static at the edges of your vision that you had been keeping at bay crept steadily in from the sides. 

You clumsily took hold of Karga's shoulder, the older man giving you a confused look. "I...I don't feel so good." You stammered.

Cara turned to you, her mouth moving and her expression changing to one of concern, but you couldn't hear her at all over the ringing in your ears.

She grabbed your cloak, yanking it up off your body as you sagged against Greef. "Sorry," you breathed, knowing that she  _ must _ have spotted the blaster wound on your side. Your own voice sounded so loud to you. Your bloodied fingers found her gorget, floundering desperately for a handhold. "Take care...of the k-kid-" you whispered, all of your adrenaline finally spent. 

You had been running on fumes for the last few minutes. You weren't sure  _ how _ much blood you had lost, all you knew is that you had been bleeding since getting clipped on the battlefield. It hadn't hurt when you were moving or distracted, the urgency of your situation enabling you to draw on your body's ability to push through the predicament. But now, it seemed that your luck had run out.

Your eyes felt too heavy. You needed sleep. How long had it been since you rested? You deserved a rest. A rest sounded  _ phenomenal _ .

"... _ shot, give-- _ **_osi'kyr_ ** _ , let me see them! _ " That was the Mandalorian. He sounded terrified. You couldn't remember  _ ever _ hearing his voice crack like that. What was wrong? When had he landed again? What happened to Gideon?

"S'wrong?" You slurred. You appeared to be laying down. Possibly. Up and down were a little confused at the moment. 

" _ Focus on me,  _ please _ , you have to stay awake- _ " He sounded so sad.

" _ Going into shock--must have been when- _ " Cara's voice was faint and wavering, as if she was underwater. 

" _ Sweetheart, cyar'ika, please,  _ **_please--_ ** " His helmet pressed to your forehead and you heard his breath rattle. No, that couldn't be right, the bacta spray should have fixed that. Was it  _ your _ breathing that sounded that bad?

You dimly felt dried blood flaking off of your hands as you moved your fingers. "Want to sleep. S'dark." You mumbled.

"Don't you dare!" His modulated voice cut through the gray haze rudely, too loud and bright. "You're  _ not _ going to sleep!"

"F-five minutes." You bargained, grimacing when his helmet banged into your forehead.

"You stay  _ awake _ , you hear me?! I'm not letting you do this! Not after everything we've been through!"

"Never even...got to…" Your head felt as if it was stuffed with clouds, words trickling out of your brain and vanishing like water in the sand. "'Pologize…" He had your hand in his own now, leather rubbing feverishly over your knuckles. "Got so mad…"

" _ You're _ not the one who needed to apologize,  _ dammit _ . I...I shouldn't have tried to leave you behind." His voice broke. "I-I'm so sorry, I'm so  _ fucking _ sorry, I-" Blood was roaring in your ears, drowning out anything else the armored man might be saying. Your fingers were going numb. Flickers of conversation reached you, battling against the roar.

" _ -them still, Karga, he's got to close this, stop the bleeding-- _ "

"- _ idea, but make sure it holds until we get back to town-- _ "

" _ I love you, I'm so sorry, this will hurt-- _ " 

Pain stabbed through your body, startling a ragged exhale out of you. Something was burning. It smelled disgusting and you retched without meaning to, bile foaming at your lips. You wondered absently if that was the smell he had been talking about when he had been poisoned,  _ death-rot _ ...

Metal was pressing against your forehead and a blinding heat seared at the wound on your side, the two sensations warring for your attention. Vomit surged up your throat, making you gag again.

_ This is it _ , you realized vaguely.  _ This is how I die. Huh. _ The notion was not nearly as repulsive as you had expected. Dying sounded halfway appealing. You could rest then. 

" _ Stay awake, please stay awake- _ "

"M' here. M'wake." You assured  _ whoever _ it was, your hand weakly patting at theirs. "So tired...can I sleep soon? Pl-ease?"

"Not now,  _ not now _ , you  _ h-have _ to stay awake." His voice was trembling. "The kid  _ needs _ you, dammit."

"Need you to--to take the kid and run." You urged, confidently stating, "I'll hol' 'em off so y' can escape. They're comin' in warm an' I'm comin' in cold." You struggled to grab your blaster, but your arms refused to cooperate. "Did y' turn up the gravity? Can't...can't move…hurts..." The tears wouldn't stop rolling down your cheeks in a torrent. You weren't even sure  _ why _ you were crying.

"Stay  _ awake _ . Just like on Sorgan. All I need is a f-few more minutes, okay? Remember?" Your body tilted crazily, someone's arms fumbling beneath your shoulders and knees to hoist you off the ground.

"Mm, I can do that. Do whatever y' want." You mumbled. The darkness closed in around you, a sweltering maw that slowly drew you deeper and deeper into its grasp. "It's...it's so dark. M' scared." You admitted, your numbed fingers petting the hand that rested on your arm.

"I'm right here with you." He assured. "I'm not going anywhere. Sing that song, please? The one you sing to the kid. The...the lullaby."

Your brow furrowed with effort and you opened your mouth, your voice faint and pitchy in the blackness. " _ Stars fading, but I linger on...dear...still craving… _ " 

The words wouldn't stick. Your brain was drawing a blank.  _ Why _ couldn't you remember the words?

You fell asleep.

...

You dreamed of wind whipping your face, steam that hissed and boiled on the lava flats, droplets trickling down from underneath a proud helmet to gather at the edge of his chin and drip onto your tunic.

You dreamed of drowning, thick liquid sliding over your head, enveloping you in its fetid grasp before your consciousness faded back out. 

You dreamed of a mudhorn in beskar, the shimmering silver-clad beast guiding you through the black.

Eventually you spiraled downwards into a deeper sleep, and finally you dreamed of nothing at all.


	10. Interlude: How He Sees The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains vivid depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

The helmet is both friend and foe. 

His longest companion and the one thing that stands between himself and the rest of the universe. Well, that and fifty more pounds of beskar plate, give or take. His new gear seems a little lighter.

He's used to it, though. 

Used to how it cups his ears and muffles everything. Used to how it leaves the bridge of his nose bruised and tender whenever he's a little too  _ active _ for his own good. Used to the headaches he gets behind his eyes if he keeps the infrared on for too long.

His life is fed to him in a series of analytics, energy readings and static-softened visuals. 

And he's used to it. It's normal.

...

He's back in his ship, the kid in tow. He's  _ just _ taken off and climbed down into the hold, trying to decide whether he's going to come to terms with the fact that he shot his proverbial gift horse point blank in the chest and he knows  _ damn _ well that Karga's underplate is just trashy durasteel--

_ What the hell was that noise _ .

He swings his head around, takes a step forward and the toe of his boot  _ hits something _ that gives a little. 

The something groans. 

His rifle is ready before he even thinks, and he's a breath away from jabbing the prongs down. But then…he sees the kid watching him intently out of the corner of his eye.

And he hesitates.

There's blood on your face when you get up, squinting in the dim light of the hold. You're in a babbling panic and he can feel himself start to relax a little. You're either not a threat or you're a damn good actor, and he'd bet the last of his credits on it being the former. Your nose looks almost as bad as his does after he's graced a belligerent quarry with a thunderous Keldabe kiss.

The ingot of beskar has him...he's not sure, really. Angry? No, not entirely right. Heated, maybe. Simmering. Guilty, too, as he shoots the kid a glance from the safety of his impenetrable visor. Beskar is  _ everything _ . It's what keeps the Mando'ade safe, and to come across it so casually…

He weighs it in his palm, thinking hard. He can't take you back to Nevarro, but maybe you'll find Sorgan agreeable. You don't have much choice in the matter. 

He'll see if he can trust you with the kid; having the little womp rat in the pilot's seat with him hasn't exactly been a viable option or one that will contribute to the longevity of his sanity.

He retreats back to the cockpit, keeping his helmet audio sensors jacked up to the maximum sensitivity and switching on the thermal to keep an eye on you. Just because you don't  _ know _ he's watching doesn't mean he isn't. He'll see how you behave when you think he's not paying attention.

You sing for the kid. 

He isn't expecting  _ that _ . He expects you to cry or have a meltdown. But no. 

You sing. 

...

If he has to say when he first got the idea that he  _ might _ be in over his head, it's probably during your stint on Sorgan. 

It's not when you pass him the food you had saved for him, although that  _ does _ get him to pause for a second. He remembers staring down at the small bundle in your hand for much longer than he needs to and then feeling like an idiot for expecting you to take it back or throw it in his face. You're probably just trying to get on his good side.

It's not when he's got his helmet off for a few rare moments during the daylight, wolfing down the food Omera left for him and watching you play and sing with their younglings and the kid in a way that makes him feel fucking  _ homesick _ , of all things.

It's not even when you almost get naked in front of him. He doesn't actually care about that. Well, not to the point where he would bring it up. He  _ wears _ beskar, he's not  _ made _ of it. That is to say, he... _ appreciates _ a good view when it's freely offered, but he won't be some slack-jawed dirt scuffer ogling anything within reach. He averts his eyes, turns his head. It's better that way. Less complicated.

It's not any of those instances. Rather, it's right after Cara tells him  _ you _ took down 'a few' raiders. 

He rushes to the hut post-fight, his adrenaline still slamming and  _ six _ fucking raiders are on the ground.  _ You _ . You weren't even supposed to catch a hint of action.

_ Seven _ fucking raiders, he realizes once he enters the hut and comes helmet to helmet...er, helmet to  _ face _ with you. You're whipping out the knife  _ as _ he comes in and you're  _ fast _ , operating on instinct, your other arm secure around the Foundlings in your lap while you glare fiercely upwards at him. 

He is abruptly,  _ painfully _ aware of his body's enthusiastic reaction to the challenge you're unwittingly issuing. Arousal hits him with a tenacity that's borderline  _ pubescent _ ; stars, what the hell is the  _ matter _ with him?

The vibroblade whirs and trembles in the dim light, but in that breathless instant it isn't a knife. It's the deadly solo weapon of a ferocious mudhorn, protecting their egg with every fiber of their body. He can tell that you don't see  _ him _ in that moment, all you see is a threat encroaching on your territory. Your eyes scream  _ danger! _ , that you wouldn't hesitate to take him apart if he dares to approach and he feels the air in his lungs seize at that look.  _ Him _ , the Mandalorian that shacked up with Ranzar Malk's gang and somehow managed to leave without getting his brains blown out the back of his helmet. 

He  _ would _ get hard over someone covered in blood with a lap full of younglings. Ticks every  _ fucking _ Mandalorian box he's got; the paternal, the protective, the  _ primal _ \--

He shoves it down and blames it on the fight. He hasn't had a real  _ good _ spike of adrenaline since Nevarro and it always gets his blood pumping. 

_ Obviously _ it's the fight. It's got nothing to do with you.

He  _ immediately _ slows, immediately makes himself smaller, and you respond by allowing him to take the knife from you. Your face is damp with sweat and tears when he presses his forehead to your own, and he urges you to stay awake for just a bit longer.

His little mudhorn.

When he pulls you to your feet is when everything falls apart and everything slides into place for him. 

You collapse against him, the blood from your shoulder staining his gloves a dirty crimson and he realizes he's  _ panting _ , like he can't get enough air through his filters. Like something is wrong with his helmet. 

But no, he's apparently just  _ panicking _ . Just entirely losing his cool. Which is fine, honestly, he's allowed to have a mental moment every now and then. A little  _ inconvenient _ , with the kid cradled sound asleep in the crook of his elbow and you slung over his shoulder and the breath wheezing in his chest like a hacksaw blade. It's fine, though, his helmet affords him some liberties. He can easily play it off like there's trouble with his modulator.

Things somehow get  _ more _ complicated instead of less, though. 

...

He knows your name but he still calls you stowaway, the word colored with amusement or exasperation. He doesn't think about it and he definitely doesn't want you  _ working _ on his ship. The sooner he can get you out of his hair, the sooner he can get on with the shit show that his life has turned into. This would be miles less complicated if you weren't so hellbent on being  _ helpful _ , if you had just stayed on Sorgan like he  _ thought _ you would.

He's not sure why you being on top of his ship when he isn't around sends his brain into high gear, but he's  _ also _ not fast enough to stop himself from  _ scolding _ you like an anxious parent when he sees you topside, body buried in that booster. For  _ fuck's _ sake, you might have agreed to come with him from Sorgan but you  _ had not _ signed on for the rest of this. He needs to figure  _ something _ out before you end up actually injured.

He's not sure what he had  _ originally _ planned to do to Calican. He forgets it the second he realizes that Toro has you at gunpoint.

The sound of pain you make when Calican torques your wrist down has him ready to kill, legitimately  _ kill _ , tear that little bastard apart just for touching you, and he realizes he's fucked. 

He's exhausted,  _ thirsty _ , sore, and it all just fades to background noise because Calican has  _ you _ .  _ And the kid _ , he reminds himself, knowing he's lying. It's a false equivalence, but he's clinging to it. That shot he takes has his guts twisting in fear, he's certain of his aim but he isn't  _ sure _ and the kid is fucking  _ wailing _ like a banshee--

The relief that hits him is a tangible force, like water to his parched body. He vaguely remembers dropping to his knees because his legs won't stop shaking, running his hands over the child to assure himself that they're alright. And  _ you _ , you, even though he had been such an  _ asshole _ before he left, you still…

He can feel you shivering even through his beskar. Your bravery is accidental,  _ honest _ , haphazard. You weren't raised like him, weren't taught to find your calm in the hum of vibrating steel or the crack of blaster fire. You've never had to stare down four stormtroopers at once and proclaim that you liked your odds, you've never had to fight your way out of an entire  _ town _ . 

But you chucked your knife aside in a second for the kid. Your only means of defense, and you  _ pitched _ it to take the kid. He can respect that tenacity, even if it was a fucking  _ stupid _ move.

His little mudhorn. All helmet and no brains.

When he comes up the ladder and you...and  _ you _ ...and he thanks the stars for his helmet because you can't see where he's looking, can't feel his eyes raking over you like he's some kind of scumbag. 

He's never seen you without your tunic before, he looked away on Sorgan but he can't bring himself to now. He feels  _ weak _ and he can't get enough air because of course,  _ of course _ you're beautiful, he knows that already even though he  _ doesn't think about it _ . On top of that you're  _ perfect _ and your breast band looks like it's on its last legs and really, he is  _ not _ prepared for this level of trial from the universe.

The mark on your hip makes him want to go back to Tattooine and put a few  _ more _ holes in Calican. He tells himself he only touches you because he's not certain you can manage the task by yourself, but...but your skin is  _ warm _ , warm even through his gloves. He doesn't care about the stains. The fact that you do gives him pause, makes his chest tight.

The salve is a lie. He can't even remember what he came up to the cockpit for originally, but he'll sure as shit take the out that you've given him to retreat before he does something even dumber than putting his hands on you.

He's no stranger to self-gratification. For someone like him, it's a necessity. But this adds a new layer to his tame, stale fantasies; it has him fucking his hand in the tiny excuse for a shower in the fresher just to blunt the sharp, hungry edge in his stomach.  _ What _ is wrong with him? He's so tired, he shouldn't even be able to  _ consider _ something like that right now, something like...something like peeling you out of your breeches and fingering your cunt until you forget all about how sore--

Maker, what is the  _ matter _ with him?! 

When he opens the fresher door and you're  _ there _ , he almost trips over himself before he can hit the switch in time to kill the light.  _ Stars _ , he's too tired to think straight. He's warm and clean, sated and his bunk is  _ calling his name _ . 

Then he touches you, absently grabbing your arm to guide you to your bedroll. Skin to skin.  _ Without _ the barrier of his gloves or the beskar. 

You jump and he feels the goosebumps that rise on your arm. He touches you again because he's  _ curious _ , hungry for the brush of his skin against your own.  _ Just once more _ . He gets bold in the darkness and he presses his chin against your forehead, mumbling some platitude before he tears himself away. 

When he wakes back up, he can't remember if he dreamt it or not.

... 

Falling in with Ranzar once again is a terrible choice. Made of desperation and sheer  _ stupidity _ ; the supply situation is worse than he wants you to know and of course the  _ Crest _ needs more repairs. So he swallows his pride and throws his lot back in with an unfamiliar set of stakes. 

Xi'an telling that smug ex-Imp  _ shit _ Mayfeld to  _ ask _ about Alzoc Three has his blood curdling. She  _ snickers _ , knowing full well that he was a nervous wreck for  _ cycles _ afterwards, but anything to get a rise out of the fucking  _ Mando _ , right? His stomach twists into a tight knot and if he's a little more  _ aggressive _ with that Devaronian, well, these things happen.

The part about the beskar he makes up on the spot, just to watch Mayfeld squirm. People usually believe him when he pontificates about ' _ Mando _ ' things, so this is absolutely not the most outlandish tradition he's ever claimed his people take part in, not by a long shot. Mating rituals are always entertaining to embellish; on at least two occasions he's convinced gullible drifters that Mandalorians build  _ nests _ . 

He can still feel your fingers intertwining with his, can still hear the syrupy, " _ sweetheart _ " that you coo in parody of an endearment. It's only after the others leave that you allow him to see you,  _ really _ see you, see the fear that has you in its grip and he can't stop himself from wrapping his entire body around you. 

He wants to protect you and you aren't even his to protect.

He can feel it seething underneath his skin. The nasty,  _ bastard _ urge to let himself loose. It's been ages since he felt so close to the edge and he  _ loathes _ it. He actually debates slamming the hatch shut and ditching Ranzar's shitty little gang in that prison. But he thinks of the credits, thinks of you and the kid going hungry…

_ Damn _ it all.

Once shit goes sideways, he barely remembers any of it.  _ Xi'an _ , the knife sliding home in the shoulder that got crushed on Alzoc Three. Flashing red lights, that bastard Burg throwing him around like a rag doll. 

_ Qin _ .

He doesn't kill, even though he wants to.  _ Maker _ , how he wants to, his finger twitching on the trigger as he stands over Mayfeld's unconscious body, illuminated by nothing but those hellish red lights. 

But he doesn't let himself loose.

Feverish, legs shaking, he all but staggers back to the  _ Razor Crest _ with his quarry in tow. This is a familiar feeling, returning limping but ultimately triumphant.

His already-shuttered world focuses down to a single, white-hot point of blind  _ terror _ when he sees that  _ fucking _ droid, that droid, that  _ droid-! _

The heavy blaster trembles unsteadily and he jams the palm of his off-hand against the grip to brace it when he pulls the trigger. Panic rises sour in his mouth; he's  _ certain _ he hasn't made it in time. So when he realizes you're still alive, the relief makes him absolutely frenzied. 

Dragging your body out of that bunk...you could have weighed a thousand tons and he still would have managed it, just to grip you tight again, just to  _ feel _ you. You're solid and  _ real _ in the drifting, fevery dreamstate; an oasis of calm for his battered body.

He can't keep his eyes open. He barely manages to get Qin off the fucking ship, barely manages to plant the transmitter on him and get the fuck out of there before the Republic's finest arrive to blow the place to pieces. 

He's never told anyone else about the atrocities of Alzoc Three. He doesn't remember most of what he says to you. And sure, he could blame the poison for the words that spill out of his mouth, but that isn't the  _ only _ reason.

It's you. 

_ You _ , listening. Your hands are on his chest and  _ Maker _ , he could die, no one has touched his skin in  _ years _ and there's no  _ way _ he dreamed that he took your arm in the hold that one time, no way he imagined the drag of his stubble along the skin of your forehead. 

He's so used to getting headbutted that he doesn't even know how to  _ react _ to you. You're so  _ tender _ , like he could break, like he might shatter into thousands of pieces at the slightest amount of roughness. He hasn't been taken care of like this since he was a boy. He doesn't... _ stars _ , he can't keep track of what he's saying and he can't keep his eyes open... 

He wakes up on the floor, his head in your lap, and he indulges himself when he picks you up and settles you carefully into the co-pilot seat. His fingers trail gently down the side of your face and his sigh is heavy enough that he feels his whole body sink an inch.

His little mudhorn. All heart and no armor.

Karga's message gets under his skin, hammering down on his last nerve. He knows he's angry,  _ dangerously _ angry, inches from letting himself  _ loose _ again but it only matters when he turns around and sees you staring up at him, your eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He had actually forgotten you were there for a second. 

_ Maker _ , he could just push his-

He jerks  _ that _ thought to a grinding halt, shoving himself back into his armor even faster and smothering the anger down with it.  _ No no no _ , a thousand times  _ no _ . Just because you might be  _ willing _ doesn't give him the right to  _ take _ like a fucking--

**_No_ ** .

...

He needs the distance, needs to recenter himself. He comes up with the excuse of having you guard the ship. He figures it'll work, it'll afford him the time he needs to get his head straightened out again.

Until you stumble into him. 

You're soft and warm, everything that he can't have and  _ stars _ , he is so fucked.  _ So _ fucked. Every jury in the galaxy would condemn him for the writhing, heated things that run through his mind when you stare up at him, all  _ concerned _ . He doesn't deserve to be looked at with such care. It makes his skin crawl, makes him feel like a liar. If only you  _ knew _ the shit he had done. You would never look at him like that if you only  _ knew _ . 

He sets a brutal pace when he leaves the ship, the kid slung across his chest in a makeshift  _ birikad _ . Of course it's stupid to overwork his body like this, he's the only one who can keep watch tonight after all, but he needs strenuous activity to silence his thoughts. 

His plan backfires horribly, as they often seem to. Really, he's uncertain of the last time one of his plans functioned properly.

He  _ had _ warned you about the comlink button. You must have forgotten. At first, it's comforting to hear you rustling around and murmuring in his ear after you wish him a good night. Dangerous, because he nearly dozes off, but comforting. 

But then…

His hands slam down on his cuisses and he sits bolt upright, his heart in his throat. That  _ noise-! _ It sounds pained, a breathless little whine. Did something happen? Are you being attacked? 

Heat floods his face when he realizes what's transpiring. He tries multiple times to broadcast through, but he can't override the frequency without having the comlink there. He  _ could _ mute the whole channel.

He doesn't, though. He tells himself it's in case there's an emergency, but really... _ really _ it's because he's a bastard. He sits there with his jaw locked, impassive, listening to you begging for him and clenching his fists tight enough that his forearms ache for hours afterwards. 

He doesn't sleep that night.

When he finally gets back to the ship it takes every ounce of his restraint to move past you with nothing but a little forehead bump. It feels like a lie of omission, because what he  _ wants _ to do--

**_No._ **

He shuts himself in the cockpit, locks the door and, once the  _ Crest _ is safely in hyperspace, he shoves his hand into his flight suit and wraps his fingers around his aching cock to  _ finally _ jerk himself off. He wonders where you were when you were fucking yourself, wonders if you would cry out like that if you knew he could hear you.

His hand is dry but he doesn't care. He's so wound from the prolonged arousal that one isn't even  _ close _ to enough. He's gasping into his helmet, the visor foggy and the whole damn thing is as hot as a Mos Eisley rooftop and he  _ wrenches _ two orgasms out back to back, his balls tightening up against his body as he paints his stomach with shuddering ecstasy. 

It's only as he's entirely exhausted, on the brink of coming a third time while fantasizing about sinking his cock into your wet, hot cunt that he allows himself to do it.

He whispers your name, and he wishes he could scream it.

…

He doesn't  _ want _ you to get trapped in this mess, why can't you see that? It's  _ dangerous _ , and he can't find the words to impress upon you just  _ how _ fucking dangerous it could be. He trusts Karga about as far as he can throw him.

He tells you he wants you to stay safe. He lies and says he doesn't want you to come along; he  _ tries _ to close himself off. Your tears make him want to bang his head against the wall, he doesn't  _ want _ to hurt you but he doesn't want you to  _ get hurt _ . 

And then he  _ fails _ . He fails, falters, falls into your embrace like the greedy, selfish fuck that he is and he  _ takes _ .

He's ruined everything.  _ Everything _ .

You're staring up at him like he just ripped the heart out of your chest and he's  _ ruined everything _ . The way you shrug off his help, the way you move like you're wounded, you won't meet his eyes anymore…

The idea that he might have  _ actually _ harmed you makes him queasy. He wants to hold you, to make sure he didn't do anything too--that he hadn't... _ Maker _ , he had been so rough-

He damns himself over and over because it hurts. It  _ hurts _ . He didn't expect it to be this  _ bad _ . He  _ never _ says the right thing. It's  _ not _ your fault that his control snapped at the first brush of your mouth on his knuckles. If he  _ had _ control in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

It's not your fault that he gets so caught up in the fantasy of  _ having _ you that he  _ takes _ what isn't his. It's not your fault that he's touch-starved, sensation-muted, shut off from the rest of the universe by layers of clothing and beskar so that all it takes is the slightest--the barest  _ fraction _ \--of tenderness and he goes to pieces.

He could  _ never _ blame you. None of this is your fault. He's just an idiot. 

His insides lurch as a new horror dawns on him. What if you  _ didn't _ want it? What if you were scared of him? What if this whole thing was just him forcing himself on you, playing out his lonely little fantasies--

Maker, he's a bastard. He's a greedy, selfish  _ bastard _ . 

_ Stay _ , he wants to plead, he  _ wants _ to beg,  _ let me explain _ . But he's the one who doesn't deserve that sort of chance and he can't...he  _ won't _ fault you for not giving it to him.

He peels his helmet off after you go back down the ladder, sitting in the captain's chair with his head in his hands.

_ This is the Way _ .

He never worried about not coming back before.

...

You leave in the middle of the night. 

He watches you, the way you're so tender with the kid as you tuck them in the final time, and it twists a blade between his ribs. The beskar can't do anything against you; it crumbles like wet sand. 

All he can do is tell you to stay safe, and he doesn't even trust his voice to say it. Inches from you,  _ inches _ ; he wants to drag you against his armor, tear off his helmet, shove himself between your legs and devour you until he  _ can't _ , until his body gives out and until his words finally fucking untangle so he can  _ apologize _ , try and explain his broken emotions instead of just  _ losing _ himself in the world-shattering warmth of your body--

_ Please don't go, I need you, I love you _ . 

But he still lets you leave, his throat numb and aching with everything that he desperately needs to say to you. He cops out and he draws his fucking circle and he taps his knuckles and he doesn't say a single goddamn thing.

Not even when you give him the vibroblade back.

…

He's certain Cara wants to legitimately kill him. He made the mistake of giving an honest answer as to why you vanished in the night.

_ I hurt them _ .

He leaves it at that and Dune is  _ livid _ , she's kicking crates over in the hold and accusing him of every horrible thing under the suns and honestly,  _ honestly _ , he deserves it. He can see that she absolutely wants to murder him. Even if she doesn't know the specifics of his sins, she knows that he's a  _ bastard _ and calls him one in about fifteen different languages. 

Kuiil just studies him silently and the old Ugnaught doubtlessly knows more than he's letting on, but he's keeping his mouth shut.

It's better this way, though. Driving you off isn't some  _ heroic _ deed, it's a selfish gesture of the highest caliber and an avoidance of the consequences  _ he _ made. He may not have  _ told _ you to leave in so many words, but he might as well have. You obviously cared about him. 

And he told you he didn't need you.

He thinks of you offering yourself, offering  _ everything _ to him in what he now realizes was a plea for him to  _ not _ throw himself at death, and his stomach churns in a nauseating mixture of forlorn arousal and guilt. 

Maker, he's a bastard.

...

The gun is so heavy in his hands. He can feel his shoulders ripping to pieces underneath the strain, rotator cuffs shrieking for mercy as they're pushed beyond their limits. His control is wavering, unraveling. 

He doesn't care. 

His chest aches but the words won't stop, pouring out of him in a screaming torrent of primal Mando'a anguish.  _ Battle-rattle _ .  _ Now _ he can talk. He stomps his feet and he squares his shoulders and he  _ roars _ ; he is the loudest, the loneliest, the largest target on the battlefield.

He loses himself. He's killing, indiscriminate, unthinking, wave after wave of white armor chewed through like paper.  _ He's loose _ . He hasn't done this since Alzoc Three. His shoulder throbs hard with the memory, phantom pain or real,  _ he doesn't know _ , blood everywhere and the heady scent of smoke and ozone in his helmet. He's killing again, he's killing and killing and  _ killing and _ \--

He hears you over the thundering report of the E-web and he thinks he's imagining things. 

He  _ hears _ you crying out a warning in his people's tongue and he fears he's finally lost his grip on reality along with his control. 

He doesn't register that it's actually  _ you _ for a split second and then he sees you.  _ You _ . Why are you even  _ here? _ You're not supposed to be  _ here _ , you're supposed to be  _ safe! _

You see him, he  _ knows _ you do, your eyes are locked on his visor. You're finally seeing what happens when he gives in. He feels like he's failed all over again and it's  _ torture _ . His body grinds to a halt, everything that he's ever done wrong running in front of his eyes like a cheap imagecast and he can hear you  _ screaming _ for him to  _ move _ , but he just...

A hot, fresh wound blooms on the back of his skull from the unexpected impact and he  _ knows _ a death blow when he fucking feels it. He reels with the gun, staggering, struggling, adrenaline and grit the only things keeping him in motion and Gideon gives him that  _ slimy _ smirk before he's engulfed in a shrapnel-filled explosion.

The next thing he knows he's laying there, just staring up at the blazing sun while the darkness of Alzoc Three creeps in. He can feel every beat of his heart in the back of his head as he bleeds out in the sand. He wonders idly whether the blood loss from the head trauma will kill him first or whether he'll be treated to the sight of Moff Gideon standing over him with that smug little grin before he's permitted to die.

The sound of the battlefield around him echoes in his ears, the slow throb of his pulse threatening to drown it all out. 

Someone's hands claw underneath his arms and he almost vomits in his helmet from the blunt stab of pain in the back of his head, only vaguely aware that he's being dragged backwards.

White glares alongside him and it's a miracle that he can even raise his hand enough to get his thrower clear of his body. The motion sends a new wave of agony up to his destroyed shoulders and he bites down on the inside of his cheek hard enough that he takes a chunk out. Your voice hits his ears and he  _ wishes _ he was dead. You weren't  _ supposed _ to get involved in this,  _ you weren't even supposed to catch a hint of action _ .

_ Seven  _ **_fucking_ ** _ raiders _ . 

He can  _ feel _ the life leaving his body. It's incredibly terrifying, an overwhelming sense of dread that bears down on his chest through the beskar and makes it so, so incredibly hard to breathe.

You push your forehead against his in that familiar Keldabe kiss gesture and he can't help the sob that escapes him because he can  _ feel _ everything and  _ Maker it hurts so much _ . If this is his retribution, he accepts it with open arms. He deserves it, he knows he does, for every terrible thing he's done,  _ for how much he hurt you _ . He'll take it all.

But you're still here with him. Your voice scares the darkness out of his helmet, keeps him conscious long enough for that droid to save his life. And isn't  _ that _ just a kick in the teeth, having a  _ droid _ (a droid that he  _ killed _ once, no less) pump him full of some off-market pressure spray bacta that has his heart rate tripping over itself to haul ass back up out of the sand. 

He doesn't complain. He's not sure why any gods, Mandalorian or otherwise, would want to keep him around, but he's not going to complain. 

You put his helmet back on before you do  _ anything _ else and his heart squeezes in his chest at the gesture.

You came back for him.  _ You came back for him. _

…

He feels like the air has been sucked out of his helmet. He's struggling, gasping, and it's  _ bad _ . How did he not notice the wound?  _ How? _

Your tunic is bunched up against your side under your cloak,  _ soaked _ rusty with blood; he can see the marks on your skin where his armor burned you when you carried him and it's  _ ugly _ , so ugly. 

When had you even gotten shot? He's trying to think,  _ trying _ to think through the panic, and then Cara speaks up and he realizes that his retribution is ongoing. 

You were running to get him. Running through a  _ hail _ of gunfire, of course you would get tagged by one of the bastards. You've been wounded this whole time.

His little mudhorn, bleeding out on the lava flats.

You're trembling with pain and shock, stammering out half-sentences, trying to tell him  _ you're _ sorry, trying to go to sleep and he wants to scream. He's spent his entire life fighting only to find out that he's  _ helpless _ in the end.

He's shaky with the cauterizer but he needs Cara and Greef to hold you still, he doesn't trust himself enough to do it. He grits his teeth and he pins your head down with his helm and when you vomit, he rolls you to the side so you don't choke. The smell permeates his helmet; burning skin and hot sick and Alzoc Three's darkness is trickling in and he's  _ begging _ , begging you to sing that song the kid likes so you don't lose consciousness.

Your voice cracks and dies with his heart.

…

The bacta tank costs about as much as an ingot of black market beskar. He doesn't bat an eye. If he's reducing it all down to clinical credits, food and fuel, he owes you that much  _ at least _ . It's not military grade, but it's  _ also _ not back-alley medisludge. It just might take a little longer for you to wake up. 

If you do at all. The amount of blood you lost doesn't paint a  _ spectacular _ picture for the odds of survival.

He buries Kuiil where he fell out in the lava flats. He stands over the grave for a  _ long _ time, his fists bunched up and his eyes aching.

Karga throws him jobs like apologies, three at a time whenever he comes asking. Pucks slide across the table and he's back out the door, shoulders rigid. He's  _ scared _ , he can feel it, gripping his spine like a vice. What if you don't wake up? What if you don't pull through? You almost had to bury  _ him _ , and now he has to wonder if he'll have to bury  _ you _ .

He slams another bail jumper in carbonite, betting yet again in favor of the forty-sixty split of mortality from the mobile freezing option. He doesn't talk, aside from when he's dealing with Greef. He spends his days in silence, moving from planet to planet with forced tunnel vision. Your shatter-voiced lullaby haunts him and his skin hums with barely-leashed threat, he wants to fucking  _ explode _ .

The full racks sway gently in the hold and he stumbles up the ladder to the cockpit, picks up the silent kid and just presses their foreheads together.  _ We'll go back today _ , he decides,  _ maybe they'll be awake today _ .

Out of his periphery he sees the kid raise their tiny hands and place them on the jaw contours of his helmet. It makes his stomach cave in on itself when the child whimpers, those huge eyes welling up. 

"I'm so sorry, kid." He mutters. "I ruined everything."


	11. Shereshoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shereshoy [pronounced sheh-REYSH-oy]:
> 
> "Lust for life and much more." "Hanging onto life and relishing it." A uniquely Mandalorian word meaning the whole-hearted enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as living to see the next day. Unrestrained, unrestricted, wild and eager.

Waking up with the clammy chill of bacta all over your body was  _ not _ an experience that bore repeating. Somewhat like being Shanghaied. You weren't sure how you could feel both sticky  _ and _ slimy, but the sensation was managed with flying colors. 

You had only been in the Nevarro med-center once before, when you had accidentally degloved your fingertip in a rivet hole. As you were an independent contractor (who normally prioritized trades of goods or food over credits in exchange for your labor) the best you could get at the time with your limited funding was a bacta patch. Your left index finger still bore a faded ring of scar tissue around the first knuckle.

So when the droid nurse in the medbay informed you of the fact that you had been healing in an  _ actual bacta tank _ for a little over half a cycle, the blood loss and internal damage having nearly done you in, you were thrown for a loop. 

"You organic lifeforms are so  _ foolhardy _ , always pushing your bodies too far." It scolded after removing the basin of lukewarm water that you had scrubbed your face and hands with. The artificially warm tone of its vocoder took some of the bite out of its words. "You have been cleared for removal from the tank, but I would advise against strenuous activities for several days."

You nodded from the cot, still staring down at your legs. You were a bit dazed, a bit  _ fuzzy _ on the details of how you had gotten here in the first place. Your last  _ intact _ memory was of tilting your head back to watch Moff Gideon's ship soar through the sky with the Mandalorian attached. After that, there was nothing but vague flashes, more sensation than visual. "How...how much is this going to cost me?" You asked, trying to remember the conversion rates for liquids and solids and whether bacta counted as a liquid or a solid. Was it sold by the pound or by the liter? Maker, this would be a  _ hell _ of a debt to work off.

The droid tittered strangely, patting your arm. "Oh, I suppose you would not recall being delivered to us. The man who brought you in paid the deposit for the tank, and then returned three days later with the rest of the credits. You are very fortunate to have such a good friend!"

_ The man who brought you in _ . "Was...w-were they a Mandalorian?" You knew you sounded a  _ little _ too desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment. 

"You  _ do _ remember! Yes, that is correct." The droid affirmed cheerily.

"Do you have any way to get in touch with a man named Greef Karga?" You rushed to inquire as the bot turned to roll back out the door. You had been about to ask for Cara, but decided against it at the last second. You were uncertain if she was still... _ at odds _ with the law.

"The leader of the Nevarro Bounty Hunters Guild? Of course, everyone knows how to contact him! But you rest, rest rest. If I can get ahold of him  _ and _ if he's not busy, I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The droid assured you.

You flexed your hands with a soft yawn after it left, and then you settled back against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt a bit stiff, likely from lack of use.  _ Half a cycle. Two weeks _ . Maker, you had nearly  _ died _ . What a  _ horrible _ scenario. 

_ He _ had nearly died. Your throat ached with an unnameable emotion, you hand sliding down to graze over the new scar on your side. It was larger than you expected, and you flinched when you actually  _ looked _ at it.  _ Better scarred than dead _ , you thought pragmatically, even while tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, biting your lip.

You only meant to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again, it appeared to be much later in the day. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in via the small window over your bed, the tiny fan doing little to combat the heat seeping through the sheet that covered you.

You heard someone clearing their throat beside you and you turned your head, eyes landing upon the visage of one Greef Karga. Posted up beside him was Cara, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." You apologized, floundering to sit up.

Greef waved off your words. "Relax, we've only been here for a few minutes. You looked so peaceful, we didn't want to interrupt." The older man jibed. 

"You gave us a hell of a scare, rookie." Dune scolded, sharply contrasting with Karga's lackadaisical opening statement.

"How did...what happened?" You asked nervously.

"Well, it was all  _ very _ dramatic. Mando blew Gideon's ship clean out of the sky with one of those fancy gadgets he's got, then he gave you a quick burner patch on the spot." Karga mused, "Your Mandalorian caused  _ quite _ the stir when he came back here with you. Damn near kicked the doors down."

"Not mine." You corrected him automatically. 

Cara scoffed and Karga raised an eyebrow. "Are you  _ entirely _ certain about that, my wayward little friend?" You gave him a confused look and he shrugged, adjusting his body in the obviously-uncomfortable folding chair beside your cot. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, I ought to thank you. If you hadn't dragged that metal-plated  _ moron _ off the battlefield, I'm certain we would still be under ex-Imperial control. I got my best hunter back, and a new enforcer to boot." Greef said with a smirk, gesturing up and down at the sturdy dropship trooper alongside him.

"Glad to be of assistance." You informed him dryly.

Karga chuckled at your wry tone, and then folded his hands in his lap. "All joking aside though, it's good to see you out of that tank. I think...I think it'll do him some good as well." The older man sighed, "For lack of a better word, he's been  _ inconsolable _ since the big brouhaha. Gonna' run the Guild out of bounties if he keeps it up."

You cocked your head, asking, "What do you mean?"

"I  _ mean _ , Mando has an interesting way of coping with his emotions." He elaborated dryly. "I get the feeling he's one of those people that, if he  _ wasn't _ a Mandalorian, he'd probably resort to panic baking."

The idea of the armored man in a  _ bakery _ somewhere (probably using his flamethrower to carmelize the top of a crème brûlée  _ or _ to dispense justice to unruly customers) sprang into your mind unbidden and you  _ burst _ out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--that's such an image, I-" you wheezed helplessly.

Greef chuckled again, taking your hand. "Do me a favor, alright? I promise it won't be difficult."

"Absolutely." You agreed quickly. After all, Greef was probably the one responsible for feeding the Mandalorian the bounties that had funded your healing time. Stars, the debt you owed the armored man seemed to be climbing higher by the second!

"He's due back in two...maybe three days, if his hunting track record is anything to go by." Karga squeezed your hand gently. "Go to see him." The serious tone of his voice caught you a little off-guard and you shook your head at him after a moment of silence. 

"I doubt he'll want to see me." You mumbled. "I mean, I left the ship because he told me he didn't want me involved. He said...he said it was Guild business. Then, I ended up getting involved  _ anyway _ and...well, almost killed in the bargain. I guess he was right to try and keep me out of it." You rubbed at the scar on your side nervously. It sat just above where you had landed on Calican's buckle, puckering the skin slightly where it had once been smooth. You weren't certain you would get used to the odd sensation.

" _ That's _ why you left?" Cara sputtered. "He said he  _ hurt _ you. I gave him an earful and everything!" She grimaced. "Now I feel like an asshole."

"He...what?"

"Yeah, he said that he 'lost control' and hurt you, and that it was better that you stay as far away from him as possible. He sounded all kinds of fucked-up over it." Dune pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "If he  _ didn't _ believe that he deserved it, I doubt he would have just sat there and taken the tirade I unleashed. I uh...I lit him up pretty good." She finished with a wince.

You stared up at her, somewhat dumbfounded. "O…Oh." You replied weakly.

"I think...well, it's not my place to say, but I  _ think _ he'll be happy to see you. As happy as a Mando can be, anyway." Karga said quietly.

You thought back on every instance you had heard the smile in his voice, the precious times that you had made him laugh--

And you nodded firmly. "You'd have to knock me out with beskar to keep me away."

Cara grinned and thumped her forehead against yours. "That's the spirit!"

Greef's laughter was raucous (and a little sheepish) and you couldn't help joining in. 

...

Getting back into the  _ Crest _ was the easy part. The worst issue you encountered was that it was raining softly, making a humid haze rise from every surface and ensuring that you would leave footprints. 

After two members of the Guild offloaded the carbonite plaques and trotted away with their hoverskiffs, you slunk out from behind the crates and bolted forward.

It only took one try to get the combination this time. He hadn't changed it. He usually changed it once every three days, so that was strange.

You entered the cool, dark hold with a small amount of trepidation, tiptoeing towards the ladder as the hatch slid shut behind you. Soft sniffling from behind the bunk shutter met your ears faintly and your heart broke. Almost before you could think about it, you hammered your fist down on the controls to raise the barrier. 

The kid was sitting in the bunk, little hands pressed to their eyes while they snuffled and whimpered. They looked up at you in panic and it was so strange to see the second that they  _ recognized _ you. They stumbled forward into your arms, those tiny claws scrabbling at your damp tunic as they sobbed. 

"Oh sweetheart, sweetheart…" you whispered, cradling them close to your chest. "I'm right here with you, it's alright now. Everything will be fine." You stroked the back of their head, blinking away your own tears. 

They started hiccupping, their little body jolting with the force of it, and you toted them into the refresher. With a bit of cajoling, you got them to hold still while you swabbed over their face with a warm cloth, cleaning off the grime of the day and those tear tracks. 

They were still sniffling slightly when you pressed a cup of water into their little hands. "You're probably thirsty after all that hard work, huh?" You asked softly, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bunk. "I wonder how long he's been gone for." You continued, thinking aloud. The child hurriedly gulped down the water, holding the empty cup back out with a little whine. "Ha! Of course, as soon as I sit down." You teased, hauling yourself back up to refill the paper cup. "Alright,  _ slower _ this time. Don't want you getting a tummy ache." You instructed, holding the cup for them so you could moderate their sips.

You watched as their huge ears began to perk back up. They looked for all the world like a freshly-watered plant, and the mental comparison made you snicker. 

"My favorite little mudjumper." You sighed, straightening out their teeny robes. At least they were clean and dry, not that you had anticipated the Mandalorian letting the kid's health or hygiene fall by the wayside. Knowing him, he was probably more likely to forget to wear his helmet than cause the kid to suffer.

You sat there peacefully for a while as the sky outside darkened, just listening to the rain beating on the hull and stroking your fingers over the kid's head. The child sprawled out on your chest, their eyes slowly sliding shut as you continued to console them.

You were eventually roused from your staring contest with the floor by the sound of the ramp extending and then heavy footsteps. The cargo bay was almost pitch-black now, the only light coming in from the now-closing boarding ramp. The rain was still beating down, though. It had picked up while you sat, drumming a tattoo on the roof high overhead.

There was a faint  _ click _ and machinery hummed to life, the hold becoming softly illuminated by the orange running lights beneath the floor grates. Your heart lurched in your chest when you spotted the Mandalorian fiddling with his gauntlet by the loading ramp, obviously focused on it. Your heart now felt like it was about to beat  _ out _ of your chest. It was a miracle you didn't wake the child with the frantic motion alone!

You couldn't move. You could barely breathe, your nerves threatening to strangle you. All you could manage to do was sit there in silence and just... _ wait _ . 

How would he react? Would he be angry that you were here? He had paid for the bacta tank, would he require you to pay him back? The thoughts bounced around in your head frantically, making your stomach drop out with apprehension.

He grunted something, sounding upset as he dragged a hand down over the front of his helmet and sagged against the wall. Maybe you shouldn't have done this, maybe...maybe you should have waited to see whether he sought you out first.

Your brow furrowed.  _ No _ . You had done enough of that. It was your turn now.

You heard his breath hitch and you realized belatedly that you had stopped paying attention to what he was doing.  _ Clearly _ he had noticed you, if the tilt of his head was any indication. His hands fell slack at his sides, like he had forgotten about his gauntlet entirely.

"Didn't mean to startle you." You said quietly, not wanting to rouse the child that was still slumped over on your chest. 

He didn't move. Didn't respond. Hell, you weren't even certain if he was  _ breathing _ anymore. He just  _ stood _ there, his cape dripping a small puddle onto the grating beneath his feet. 

The kid yawned, smacking their lips and snuggling back down against your collarbone. 

"Put the...put the kid in his crib. Please." The Mandalorian requested. His tone was even, giving you absolutely nothing to go on as far as gauging his thoughts. 

_ Stars _ , you had missed the sound of his voice. You almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth. 

You carefully got to your feet and turned, laying the child down in their bassinet. Your hand hovered over the controls to close the protective shielding, silently waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah. I...yeah. Please." He muttered. 

Once you had done so, you shifted back to face him. You kept your eyes on your boots though, unable to look  _ at _ him just yet. Anxious nerves wrung the life right out of your voice, making it crack when you finally began to speak. "I-I'm sorry. I know you didn't...I know that I went against what you told me to do, b-but--" You heard him swear and then a sharp clatter met your ears. He must have  _ lunged _ across the hold because abruptly, a set of gloved hands were cupping your face and dragging it upwards. 

You had shut your eyes and tensed up on instinct when you saw the hands coming, so the  _ mouth _ that pressed to your own was a bit of a shock. You froze, then sighed with relief and leaned  _ hard _ into the kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, greedily pawing the familiar beskar (and the not-as-familiar way that it pitched under your touch). He groaned against your lips and pressed your back to the wall, his own hands grasping for purchase on your shoulders.

_ He had missed you. _ Or at least, it certainly seemed that way! Any other thoughts you had at the moment fled under the assault of his desperate mouth.

He exhaled raggedly and then buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything for the longest time, one hand falling to clutch at the fabric of your tunic over your side. His shoulders heaved and you realized he was  _ crying _ , breath wheezing through his teeth from where he had bitten down on his glove to stifle the sound.

You kept your eyes closed and cautiously, carefully, you slid your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here." You whispered. You felt his knees buckle and he swayed, forcing you to grab a handful of his soaked flight suit to steady him.

"M' sorry, I-" he rasped. "I'm getting you all wet. The rain, I..." 

"Yeah...I don't know what they call it on Mandalore, but here, we call it crying." You teased him softly.

He actually  _ laughed _ at that, pulling back a little. "Guess now I know why Karga and Dune told me to take the day off. I went to the medbay and you weren't there, I-I figured you'd left Nevarro for good. Why…" he swallowed hard, then continued, "why are your eyes shut?"

"I uh, it was mostly a reflex." You admitted. "Should I…" Your throat had gone bone dry. "Sh- _ Should _ I open them?" 

"I…" He hesitated. "You already know my name."

_ Din Djarin, the words tripping over one another as he struggled to get them out through a mouth that barely worked-- _

"Well yeah, but that doesn't give me viewing privileges." You retorted. "Hell, that doesn't even give me permission to  _ use _ your name. Knowing it is only a part of the equation."

"Do you... _ want _ to use my name?" He sounded breathless.

"I mean, I wouldn't--I wouldn't  _ mind _ it." You admitted weakly after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. "Only if you're okay with it though!" You rushed to add, feeling as if you needed to make sure he knew he could retract the offer. "I know that it's got a lot of weight to it." He wasn't angry at you.  _ He wanted you to say his name and see his face _ .

"I'm terrified." He replied bluntly. "I haven't shown anyone...well, ever. You're the only one that's--I-I mean, you're the...you're  _ it _ ." How could someone make you weak in the knees while also simultaneously being absolutely, entirely,  _ outrageously _ awkward? 

"I can start with your name, and if you still want to...I mean,  _ you _ make that choice, okay?"

"I want you to see. I just don't know if I…I mean, the idea of you...I thought you were going to  _ die _ , all because I screwed up, pushed you away. I want--I  _ need _ to make sure you don't...that you don't…" He struggled with his words, gloved hands wrinkling your tunic beyond hope when he tightened his grip. "I  _ can't _ , not again. I'm so sorry." He finally muttered. His mouth pressed to your neck, kisses trailing wet and hungry over your skin. "Please,  _ please _ say my name."

"Din." You whispered, again struck with the sensation that you were breaking a multitude of rules as you felt him shudder bodily. "Din...Djarin."

" _ Shit _ ." He groaned, tilting his head back. "That's...that's nice." He sounded a bit faint.

" _ Please _ don't pass out." You murmured. "All the beskar would absolutely crush me and I don't think you want to try and scrape me up out of the floor grates."

He choked out another laugh, wet gloves smoothing over your hair. "Sorry. M' just tired. This feels like a dream." He sighed heavily. "I have to wash up. Get out of this suit so it'll dry."

"I'm  _ all _ for getting you out of the suit."

He smiled against your neck, "yeah?" 

"Mmhm." You nodded, blindly reaching for the clasps on his gription harness. 

Between your sightless fumbling and his hungry kisses, it took  _ much _ longer than normal for him to get out of his armor. He couldn't seem to  _ stop _ kissing you, seeking your mouth again and again.

"Making up for lost time." Din grunted, finally managing to divest himself of his flight suit altogether and then jerking the liner shirt off over his head. He pressed his body to your own and you flushed wildly. Last time he hadn't even fully removed his flight suit,  _ and _ he had kept the liner shirt on. It was surreal to be able to touch him like this.

He seemed to agree, if the helpless noises in his throat were any indicator. You trailed your fingers along his chest, sliding boldly down to stroke through the thick curls that started right above the waist of his compression leggings. " _ Pare _ , wait, I need…t-to shower." He pleaded, his hands fumbling on your shoulders. "H-Have to do this right." His forehead bumped against yours. "Have to do this right." He repeated, now grinding himself down into your palm instinctively. You easily found the thick arch of his cock through the leggings and you couldn't resist giving him a gentle caress before you pulled away.

His breathing sounded  _ distinctly _ shaky. "Okay. Go ahead." You urged him, making a shooing gesture in what you hoped was the direction of the refresher. 

"Hang on," he protested. "Wait, ch-changed my mind, come here."

"Mm, nope! Go shower." You cupped his jaw, feeling him swallow hard. "Get cleaned up. I'll be here when you get out."

"Stay...stay at the sink?" He bargained. You could hear him fumbling with something, probably his leggings. 

"Absolutely." You kissed his nose. "Now go shower, you smell like wet Wookie." 

He embraced you without warning, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his cock against your stomach. "Wait for me." He requested, the kiss that followed absolutely  _ voracious _ . You clung to his shoulders, rendered helpless under the attack of his mouth. 

"Y-Yeah, 'course." You stammered when you could think again.

He took your wrist and led you forward until you could touch the sink, and then he got into the shower. "When did you wake up?" He asked after he had keyed the shutter closed. 

You opened your eyes and leaned back on the sink, tapping your chin. "It's been about...three days?"

He swore under his breath and you heard a metallic rattle. "Shit, c'mon,  _ stupid- _ " The water abruptly burst on and he yelped. You couldn't stifle your laughter, though you  _ did _ try. "So glad my pain amuses you." He groused through the divider. "Here I was, coming back to my ship all torn up, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd never see you again."

His words were annoyed but you could hear the soft sadness in his tone. "I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't know how to leave you behind." You replied gently. "Plus, bacta tank time isn't exactly cheap."

He scoffed, "Yeah, we need to talk about  _ that _ . Later. Once we're in a proper headspace for it." He was silent for several minutes, the only noise the running water of the shower and the thunder of the rain overhead. "I don't... _ look _ , the bacta doesn't fucking matter. I'm just...I'm glad you came back," he muttered finally. "Glad I didn't ruin everything like I thought I did."

"You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Din." You luxuriated in saying his name, though your words were ultimately serious. "Why didn't you tell Cara the truth? She said she yelled at you pretty bad."

"I  _ did _ tell her the truth." Din sighed. "Look, I hurt you. You can't say that I didn't. Physically, emotionally...wounding happened. You didn't feel welcome to stay anymore and I sure as hell didn't give you a reason to." There was a quiet  _ thud _ . "I knew she would rip me apart and honestly, I think I needed that to parse everything. But stars, that woman took the paint off."

You grimaced. You could only imagine the awful things she had (probably) shouted at him. You heard the shower turn off and you shut your eyes again, tilting your head at the sound of the shutter sliding.

"Mm, I could get  _ used _ to this." He murmured. All you got for a warning was the rustle of a towel and then, he was on you. His mouth claimed your own and he chuckled when your hands immediately found his damp hair. "You really like that, huh?" He commented, sounding amused.

"Listen, I've been through enough. Let me have this." You complained, yanking playfully at his shaggy locks and laughing when he grunted. 

"You keep it up and I'll let you have a  _ lot _ more than just that." He threatened, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He then grabbed the hem of your tunic, stripping it up off your body to leave you there in your breast wrap. The breathy noise he made was enough to have you flushing hot; you could almost  _ feel _ him looking at you. " _ Maker _ , I don't deserve this." He whispered as he pressed his palm to the faint scar on your side. " _ Any _ of this. Over this...half a fucking cycle, I kept thinking that I must have made you up. That there's no way someone like you could even be  _ real _ ."

He sounded  _ reverent _ again and it made your head spin, it had you gripping his shoulders while he slid down your body to peel your pants off. The mental image of him naked on his knees in front of you--

Stars, you  _ wished _ you were brave enough to open your eyes.

One large hand slipped between your thighs, urging you open with the gentle press of his other hand hooked right above your knee. "Let me see you, let me see." He breathed, his fingers groping forward until they encountered your slick. You squirmed a little, hoping that he wasn't put off by how wet you already were. You couldn't really  _ help _ it, of course. "Oh,  _ fuck _ , you're s-so--you're  _ dripping _ for me,  _ fuck _ ." 

"D-Din…" Your fingers were in his curls again, and you gave a gentle tug. 

His  _ tongue _ -

You felt the inquisitive, flat press of it against your cunt and you gasped out, quickly tilting your face up so that you wouldn't see him if you accidentally opened your eyes.  _ Wait, if he's not supposed to take off his helmet-- _

Your thoughts ground to a halt when he moaned from between your thighs, wedging his shoulder in to keep your legs apart. "Taste--t-taste  _ so _ -" he mumbled, laving sloppily over your clit. " _ Good _ , fuck.  _ Good _ ." His fingers spread you wide, allowing him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. You knew you ought to be embarrassed about being splayed open like this, but you couldn't seem to muster up the feeling over the sensations you were being gifted.

Din was clearly spurred on by your enthusiasm if his sounds were any indication, his already limited words dissolving into soft growls and rumbles as he ate you out. 

That wasn't  _ exactly _ the correct term for what he was doing, really. He was  _ devouring _ you, his nose clumsily bumping into your clit with every other motion, his hands trembling as he tried to keep you still under his ministrations. You thought it couldn't get any better, but then his tongue licked  _ inside _ of you and you couldn't help the way your voice broke when you cried his name, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. Having your eyes closed did nothing but intensify the feeling of surrender, you were his prey and he was  _ hungry _ .

The snarl that he let out in reply had you quivering, his tongue fucking your cunt almost  _ lazily _ . He was teasing now, drawing it out. "Beg me." He slurred,  _ smiling _ against you. "Beg."

" _ Please- _ -oh f-fuck, please, please-" you whimpered, almost in tears when he backed away.

"Please…?" He trailed off and you abruptly understood what he was waiting for.

"Please,  _ Din _ , p-please make me come." You begged pitifully, your hips twitching as they sought out his mouth. 

"One more time?" He implored, groaning after you fisted your hands in his shaggy curls again.

" _ Please _ , Din, please let me come, p-please, please--" Your voice cracked when he hitched your leg up over his shoulder and buried his face in your cunt. He locked his hot, wet mouth around your clit, rubbing his tongue down on it in a focused attack that had your knees buckling, chest heaving, nails digging into his scalp and-

_ Your _ Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was not a man who did anything by halves.

You fell apart, soaking his tongue with your orgasm as you sobbed out his name again and again. He moaned hungrily, the noise sending vibrations through your sensitive sex and making you shudder while he continued to move his mouth, continued to gently lick at your cunt and lap up your come. 

"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously once he finally took pity on you and let you catch your breath. 

"' _ Am I alright _ ', like you didn't just take my soul out of my body with your tongue." You panted.

"Yeah?" There was a smile in his voice. "Alright." With a quiet grunt, he got to his feet. "Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it, but-" You cupped his jaw, delving your tongue into his mouth to catch a taste of yourself. He choked a little, obviously startled when you bit down on his lower lip and tugged it gently. "You...more?" He queried, sounding hopeful. 

"Yes, absolutely yes." You answered breathlessly. He hesitated for a second, his arm brushing your shoulder on its way by. 

"There. Turn around and open your eyes."

You did so, stumbling a little on your still-unsteady legs. When you blinked your eyes open you realized that he had opened the tiny mirrored cabinet over the sink, effectively rendering the reflective surface harmless. You  _ wanted _ to feel disappointed, but you knew that he would do it in his own time, on his own terms.

His hands roamed up your body, unraveling the binding that you had to support your breasts. They fell into his palms and he exhaled harshly in your ear, the heated air making you shiver all over as he pressed himself to your back. He toyed with your breasts inquisitively, squeezing them and teasing your nipples with his calloused fingers until you were writhing back against him, wordless pleas making their way out of your throat. "What? I didn't catch that." He murmured in your ear, roughly sinking his teeth into the shell of it and making you keen loudly. "Something you want?" 

" _ Din- _ " you protested, leaning a little further forward in obvious invitation. He fell silent and the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy, coating the shaft with your slick.  _ Agonizingly _ slow, he pressed in until his tip was inside you.

" _ Hah _ , f- _ uck _ , you're…" His forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades and stayed there as you squirmed, trying to push back onto him. " _ Mmfuck _ , I have t-to be...y'  _ tight _ ,  _ cyar'ika _ , breathe-" 

"Sorry--" you whimpered, startled when he nipped at your shoulder.

" _ Don't  _ f-fucking apologize, don't y'  _ dare _ \--" Din stammered indignantly, "gripping me like a f-f- _ ucking _ vice, don't want to  _ hurt _ you." His hands smoothed down over your hips and he clumsily repositioned you, arching your back a bit more to open you up. 

You exhaled and you heard him grunt in what sounded like relief. He then penetrated you fully in one long,  _ smooth _ thrust, the mass of him punching the rest of the breath out of your lungs and leaving you grasping blindly at the sink for something to anchor yourself. His cock was so  _ thick _ , you felt like it was searing your insides and branding you as his forever. 

_ Your Mandalorian _ .

You shakily pushed yourself up and wrapped your arm around his neck to support your body as he began to stroke into you against the sink, your eyes sliding closed before you could glimpse him in your periphery. 

His lips pressed to your cheek and one hand groped over your stomach until his palm ground down on your pubic mound, sending stars across your vision and making you whine out his name. You tilted your head back down to stare dazedly at his arms around you, watching the way his musculature coiled and bunched with every thrust. Maker, he was  _ strong _ . 

Din kept your back pinned tightly to his chest, giving you his cock without mercy as he rambled disjointedly in your ear about how much he had  _ missed _ you, about how much he  _ craved _ you, how much he  _ needed _ you-

"I-I love--" His voice faltered, then he gritted his teeth. "I  _ l-love _ you, y--you know that, r-right?" Din blurted out desperately. 

"I--" the breath caught in your throat, due in no small part to the man currently fucking you into sweet oblivion. "-love  _ you _ ." You managed to say, closing your eyes and knocking the side of your head into his. 

He made a pained noise, one hand reaching forward. "Open--open your eyes. P-Please,  _ please _ open 'em." He begged. 

"Are you-"

"Fuck, fuck  _ fuc-k-k _ I need it pl- _ ease _ ," Din cried, his voice rasping and then cracking. "Need you to see, need you to see,  _ need it need it need it-- _ "

The sound of his breathless, sobbing entreaty was more than enough to convince you to oblige him, and so ( _ eventually _ ) your eyes fluttered open.

It took a minute, but you managed to focus on the now-closed cabinet in front of you. The mirrored surface revealed the man that you had saved, the man who had, in turn, saved  _ you _ . 

He had his eyes downcast, no doubt transfixed by the sight of his cock splitting you open again and again. His hair was shaggy; brown, a few grays peppered in here and there. Heavy, furrowed brow, square jawline, full lips currently pressed together in a concentrated grimace. Several fresh-looking scrapes and bruises littered his face. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken several times, but that wasn't surprising. Mandalorian helmets, for all their protection, did sport  _ incredibly _ flat fronts.

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was devastatingly attractive even beneath the armor.

"Hey," You breathed and he jerked his head up, dark,  _ dark _ brown eyes meeting your own for the first time. You were abruptly breathless, and  _ not _ simply because his cock felt like it was making itself at home in your chest cavity. You curled your fingers weakly on the nape of his neck, the motion almost a wave. "You could have w-warned me that the helmet was for  _ my _ protection, not yours."

He tilted his head to the side, illustrating his confusion even without the helmet to mask his expression. His hips pressed to your rear almost idly, rutting his cock as deeply in you as it could possibly reach.

"Didn't expect you to be so h- _ andsome _ ." You gasped, a guttural cry leaving your lips when he shifted his weight to drag his cock back out of you.

His smile was  _ incredibly _ shy, an awkward little tilt of his lips before he buried his face against your shoulder blade again. Maker, was he...was he  _ blushing? _

You had made a Mandalorian blush. While he was pounding you into the next cycle, no less. You could  _ feel _ the temperature difference of his face and you giggled, your breath hitching.

"Don't-- _ don't _ laugh at m-me, dammit." He grunted. "Not while...I'm  _ f-fucking _ you like this--"

"Not--at you," you panted. "I j-just love you, that's all."

He choked on his next breath and his tempo stuttered, that thick cock throbbing inside you. "Who do y-you love?" He whispered, his hands fondling your breasts.

"Din Djarin." You replied quickly, arching your back a little more.

" _ Ah _ \--a-and I love--I love  _ you _ ." He groaned. "So...so much." He slid his hand down again, spreading your cunt open so he could play with your clit. You could  _ hear _ how wet you were, and it filled you with a delight that was borderline shameful. "Come on me. Want you t-to...f- _ ucking _ soak me, soak my cock, c'mon." He demanded hotly in your ear, making brief eye contact with you in the mirror. His look was  _ smoldering _ , burying itself in the hungry tension that teemed in your groin. "I can feel you, fucking squeezing me every t-time I talk, so  _ come _ , come on me--"

Your clit was  _ unbearably _ sensitive from your earlier orgasm, every motion of his body sending shockwaves through you. You squirmed and writhed but he had you trapped, safe and secure and  _ begging _ you to submit to the pleasure he wanted to give you. It was almost too much to bear; you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you finally succumbed with a primal growl.

Din didn't stop, though. He fucked you  _ through _ your orgasm, fucked you into the blinding delight of overstimulation and pressed the heel of his palm down onto your pubic mound once more. You could  _ feel _ his cock twitching, could feel how tense his thighs had gotten,  _ Maker _ you could feel  _ everything _ and it was a blissful torture. Thoroughly strung out, all senses ablaze, you begged him to come.

"I want to, I want to,  _ gedet'ye _ I w-want to so fucking  _ badly _ , I want--" Din chanted. Without any ceremony, he thrust his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, urging you to extend it and lick his fingers. You obliged almost automatically and he dragged his now wet fingertips down your chest to roll and tweak your nipples  _ hard _ .

You clenched down on him without conscious input, your pussy in spasm around his cock as the cool air combined with his rough little tugs to rouse and torment your breasts. You sobbed out his name again and again,  _ pleading _ for relief and praying it never came all at once.

He met your eyes in the mirror, pupils blown wide and his mouth just barely open, and-- "Oh,  _ fuck _ ." He choked. "I  _ love _ you." And then he came, wrapping an arm around your midsection to keep you firmly planted in the shuddering cradle of his thighs. He bucked into you over and over and you knew you were dead weight but you couldn't bring yourself to move, moaning helplessly in his trembling grip. " _ Ner _ , mine." He grunted. 

"Mmhm." You breathed, too beyond words to function at this point in time. 

He let out a breathless chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair. "You're  _ mesh'la _ , beautiful. My beautiful little mudhorn." He sighed.

"Again...with that name." You replied haltingly, the air slowly returning to your lungs. He slung both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest once more. You were bewildered by your body's reaction, aftershocks hitting hard enough to make your legs shake. "Couple of things that come to mind when I think of a mudhorn." You continued after a few deep,  _ deep _ breaths. " _ Beautiful _ and  _ little _ are definitely not among them. I tend to think  _ big _ , and  _ dangerous _ . So you know.  _ You _ ."

"I remember the first time I thought of you like that." He murmured in your ear. "You had just killed seven raiders. I came into the hut and you were ready to kill  _ me _ too."

"Oh... _ oh _ ." You trailed off, flushing slightly. "I-I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't."

"Mm, I'm not so sure." He exhaled into your ear, making you squeak. "It was intense. I...I'm pretty sure that was it for me. Fought for so long, y'know, but it was useless. You took my heart with that look,  _ cyar'ika _ ."

"You really...I mean, you thought about me like that?" You asked shyly. And it was an  _ insane _ thing to be shy about, considering the fact that his cock was still inside you. "You mentioned some things the last time we...uh,  _ got involved _ , but I assumed you were just saying stuff to get me excited."

"I don't know how to talk like that." He answered you bluntly.

" _ That's _ a lie." You retorted. "You told me you fucked your hand thinking about me!"

" _ Mmmultiple _ times." He drawled the 'm' out in a self-satisfied manner, kissing down the side of your neck.

"That's not you just trying to say something...y'know, to get me worked up?" 

"I said it because it's true." He muttered, "should I...should I not say things like that?"

" _ No _ , no, you definitely should!" You backtracked quickly. "It's just...it's nice to know that you were thinking about me even before I was...well,  _ masturbation material _ . It's nice that you saw  _ me _ , I guess I should say."

"I always saw you." He breathed, his fingers sliding up the side of your neck to tilt your head so he could kiss your cheek. "Saw you play with the younglings. Saw how you took care of the kid. Saw how you  _ protected _ him. Saw how you took care of me."

Your flush was a raging inferno at this point.

"I don't remember a lot about the...whole  _ situation _ with Ran's group. Xi'an's poison threw me off my track pretty good. But I remember…" Those brown eyes half-lidded as he collected his thoughts. "Remember you singing to me."

"You asked me to." You whispered. 

"I don't mind that memory. Out of all the ones that I have, it's one of the few that isn't shit." Din mused, adding, "today's nice too, don't get me wrong. No deadly neuro-toxins to take the edge off either." He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying you gently back and forth as you watched him in the mirror. Stars, you were still a little tongue-tied at how  _ handsome _ he was. "I need you to promise me something, stowaway." 

"What is it?"

"Don't you  _ e-ever _ try to fucking die on me again." His voice cracked, "okay?" He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "Please."

"Din…" You said softly, stroking your fingers through his hair.

"Just...just promise me that." He choked out. "If you get hurt, fucking  _ tell me _ . If something happens, if…shit, if something goes wrong, please-- _ please _ , don't hide from me. I'm sorry f-for...I'm sorry that I...I fucked everything up. I'm so sorry. All I've been able to think about is how much you m-must hate me. You were almost killed because you were pulling my stupid,  _ stupid _ ass out of the fire."

"Hey, hey. You  _ literally _ told me to stay out of Guild business. You  _ can't _ blame yourself for my inability to follow your instructions." You protested, nudging your head against his. "I'm an adult and I take full responsibility for my own stupidity when it comes to you, okay?"

One large hand trailed down to skim the scar from the blaster wound and he huffed, sniffling quietly. He pulled your hips back more firmly into the seat of his pelvis, shifting his weight a little. "All heart and no  _ fucking _ armor to defend it." He managed to say.

"You've got more than enough for the both of us." You replied gently. Then, you whimpered as he palmed over your breasts again, his fingers tugging your nipples mercilessly. " _ How _ are you still-"

" _ Missed _ you." He rasped, his words husky with longing and unshed tears. "You're so warm.  _ Sensitive _ . I love...I love  _ you _ . Don't want to stop touching you."

" _ Din _ \--" Your voice broke as he rolled his hips, his cock hilted in you deliciously.

" _ Mm _ , one more? Maybe?" He begged.

"I don't know if my legs are going to last that long." You confessed. "Or the rest of me, to be honest."

"If it's too much for you, I'll stop." He breathed in your ear. "Can tell me to stop and I'll stop."

"I don't  _ want _ you to stop, but I'm just-"

"'But' means you need me to stop." Din interjected softly. "I'll stop." 

"Wait, wait, it's just that-- _ I'm-! _ " Your orgasm struck without warning as he attempted to withdraw, the drag of his cock over your spot making your vision briefly white out from the overload. You shuddered and writhed, the pleasure nearly to the point of pain as your inner walls clutched at his cock. You couldn't help the way your nails raked into his arm, clawing for purchase.

You vaguely heard him moan, "oh,  _ f-fuck _ \--" the words nothing but a gravelly rumble. He struggled to keep pulling out, rambling about how tight you were like he couldn't even help it. "Easy, easy  _ cyar'ika _ \-- _ relax _ , relax relax. You grip me so-- _ f-ucking _ -"

"Sorry, sorry-" you sobbed, your words catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock  _ finally _ leave your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. It was like a breath of relief and anguish all at once; you were too sensitive to handle more but you had missed him so  _ much _ -

He tipped your chin back with one hand, kissing your forehead clumsily as he dragged his other hand over the inside of your thighs. "Mm, shh,  _ no _ apologies. Gonna' come." He slurred through gritted teeth. "Right here, just l-like this, using your come to fuck my hand. You  _ ready? _ Ready for my come?" 

Your words failed you at his declaration and all you could do was nod, drowsily meeting his gaze in the mirror. His breath hitched again, like he was startled. It was  _ wildly _ endearing to know you had that sort of effect on him. "Love you." You whispered, propping yourself up with your elbows on the sink to enjoy the show.

" _ Hnn _ , f-fuck,  _ fuck _ -" he panted, "that's not fair. With the eyes too? N-Not--not  _ fair _ , you can't do that."

You just smiled sweetly, arched your back and he lost it. His release hit the small of your back and you listened to him gasp and grunt his way through his orgasm with an exhausted tremor of delight. He came for what seemed like an eternity to you (and him as well, if his voice dissolving into a broken, raspy growl had anything to say about it). 

"You make the nicest sounds." You complimented him once he seemed to be able to  _ breathe _ again. 

"Wh...What?" Din croaked after clearing his throat several times. 

"Your voice. It's nice. I like it."

"Um…huh." His fingers absently smeared the come on the small of your back. He appeared to be at a loss for words. "I should...uh. Get a...something. Gotta' clean. Don't move. I...yeah, don't move." He said finally, awkwardly clearing his throat again and avoiding your eyes in the mirror.

"Helmet back on?" You suggested. He froze, looking a little guilty. "Hey, no. It's part of your life. It's who you are. Don't ever worry about putting it back on, okay?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. 

You swatted his leg. "What did I just  _ say? _ Listen to me when I talk!" You chided. 

"I  _ know _ , I just-"

"Nope! Nope. You're more comfortable with it on, right? You're used to it. That's how your world is and that's  _ fine _ ." You assured him. "I'm a new addition. That's only if you want to keep me around, of course."

"Don't you  _ dare _ say something like that." He grumbled, obviously bashful. "'Course I want you around. I'm not letting you out of my fucking  _ sight _ for at least a week."

"Is that... _ possessiveness _ I detect in your tone, Djarin?" You asked in mock surprise. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

He scoffed, shaking his head and then walking through the bay to pick his helmet up from its forlorn place next to the loading ramp. "More like soul-crushing anxiety over your wellbeing, but that too I guess." He grunted after donning his familiar headgear. He padded back over to the fresher, reaching into the shower and scooping up a washcloth.

The water was  _ cold _ and you yelped, making him flinch. " _ Fuck _ , what, a-are you alright?" Din stammered, palms cupping your hips gingerly.

"Could have used  _ warm _ water." You squeaked, wriggling a little in an effort to shake off the chill. 

He breathed a sigh. "Maker, don't...don't fucking  _ scare _ me like that." He muttered, obligingly running the cloth under the hot water tap. "I thought I hurt you."

"No no, it was just cold. Sorry." You apologized, feeling a little sheepish. The cloth was barely lukewarm when he laid it back on your skin, but it was absolutely better than it had been the first time. 

His motions were clumsily tender, like he wasn't used to being careful. When he moved lower to run the cloth over the inside of your thighs, he slowed to rub circles on your still-trembling muscles. "Maker, I...you're shaking." 

"Yeah, you kind of gave me a workout." You teased, turning your head to smile at him over your shoulder. "Also, I think I'm still supposed to be taking it easy. According to that nurse, anyway."

"You're  _ what _ ." 

"Supposed to... _ uh _ , you know what? Never mind." You tried to brush it off, but he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms back around you.

"If you're  _ supposed _ to be taking it easy," he growled in your ear, modulated voice sending that familiar tremor through your body, "I shouldn't have just  _ railed _ you against the fucking  _ sink _ ."

"Hey, I  _ needed _ that. You did too. Don't act like you didn't, Djarin." You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him. 

Din shook his head, tapping the helmet against your temple. "I wouldn't have made you stand. Would have...would have laid you down or something." He eased your full weight against his chest. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. A little achy and stiff, but that's okay." He hummed disapprovingly in his throat, tugging you back a step from the sink. You flung your arm around his neck, clinging to him as your legs tried to dump you on the ground. " _ Not _ hurt!" You insisted when you heard his breath hitch. "I promise. Just well-fucked."

"Still. You can barely stand. We need to lay you down." He murmured, smoothing his palm over the top of your head. "You want the bunk?"

"No, we can't both fit in there." You tightened your hold on him without meaning to.  _ Don't go _ . 

"I don't want you to be on the floor if you're hurt." He protested.

"I don't want to be alone." You hated how your voice cracked. " _ Please _ , Din. Not right now."

"Oh.  _ Oh _ . Alright, I...alright. I didn't mean...I just didn't want you to--the floor isn't comfortable." Din fumbled to say, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. 

"I lived with it before, I can definitely manage it now." 

The jaw contour of his helmet gently pressed to your cheek like a kiss. "Okay. Give me...I'll get some more blankets together or something. You  _ stay still _ ." He ordered sternly, patting your hip. "Stay."

Your laugh was a little shaky. "I'm not the kid, y'know." 

Din grumbled something under his breath, sounding exasperated.

…

You had no idea that he even  _ possessed _ this many blankets. You blinked down at the pile, certain you recognized a few blue ones from your stay on Sorgan. 

"Something most people don't know about Mandalorians is that we build nests." Din informed you, his voice utterly deadpan.

"You are...a  _ liar _ ." You sputtered, giggling when he nuzzled his helmet into the crook of your neck. You had taken a quick shower while he was distracted by his  _ nest building _ , so your skin was still warm and a little damp. His beskar squeaked slightly at the moisture.

"I  _ could _ be lying, yes. But I might also be telling the truth." He reasoned, tugging you down to settle on the floor. 

" _ This is the Way _ , right?" You teased, cupping the sides of his helmet. He stilled and your smile slipped a notch as you remembered the way you had thrown the phrase in his face, how heartbroken he had sounded when he begged you to wait. 

Hesitantly, his hands raised to cover your own. "This is the Way." He intoned quietly, pressing his forehead against yours before continuing, " _ With _ you. I'm  _ never _ leaving you behind. Ever again." 

"My Mandalorian." You whispered, relief making your eyes slide closed. "Thank you, Din."

He breathed, "Thank  _ you _ for loving me," his tone  _ unbearably _ soft even through the modulator. "Thank...thank you for  _ saving _ me, my little mudhorn."

Your chuckle was a bit more watery than you would have liked. "That pet name is going to take some getting used to." You stroked the sides of his helmet. "Luckily, I'll have plenty of time to do so." You proceeded to press your thumb to his sternum, drawing it downwards. He did the same to you and you could feel the affection he had for you radiating through the delicacy of his touch when he softly tapped his fingers to your lips. "I promise." You whispered, your own fingers making a dull ringing sound on his beskar helmet. 

He just... _ stared _ down at you for several long moments. Long enough for you to half-lid your eyes again, lashes sweeping down as you focused your gaze self-consciously on his knees.

Slowly,  _ slowly _ , his hand extended, and you could see it shaking ever so slightly in your peripheral for a second. "I share my name with you." Din slid his index finger down your jaw. "I share my face with you." He trailed his hand across your visage from temple to chin, his fingertips  _ barely _ grazing your skin. "I share my body with you." He cupped his palm tenderly over the top of your left breast (no doubt feeling the way that your chest heaved excitedly under his touch). "I share...I share my heart with you." He murmured, threading his fingers through your own and raising them to his chin. "This is a  _ riduurok _ bond. An oath that I swear to you. It's...it's very important." His sentence dissolved into a bit of a mumble, but you still heard him when he stammered, "s'a marital...l-love bond."

"Oh." You replied dumbly, before erupting with, " _ oh! _ Oh, you're--oh  _ wow _ , stars, okay. What...uh, what do I have to say in return? To say yes?!" You rushed to ask, certain your eyes had gone glassy with tears.

"If...um, if you accept, y-you just...repeat what I said, and the gestures." Din seemed flustered by your enthusiastic reply, his hand trembling in your grip. "You...you really-?"

You tapped your index finger to the apex of his jaw contour and he fell silent. There was no possible way he could feel your touch through the armor, and yet you were still incredibly careful. "I share my name with you, Din." You breathed, your finger gliding over the beskar without so much as a sound. You then gently,  _ so _ gently, rested your palm on the flat front of his visor. "I share my face with you, Din." 

"Maker,  _ yes _ ." He sighed, knocking his forehead roughly into your palm before you swept it down over his face like he had done for you. 

Your fingers splayed above his left pectoral, digging in a bit more than you needed to. "I share my body with you, Din." He shifted restlessly under your touch and you could feel your cheeks ache with how hard you were smiling as you took his hand in your own. Turning it over, you scrutinized his bruised knuckles with a soft noise of distress. Then, you raised his fingers to your lips and kissed every bruise, every battered knuckle, every scar that crisscrossed his olive skin.

" _ Please _ ," Din begged brokenly, his voice nothing but a breathy groan. "P-Please."

You obliged him without hesitation, tapping your joined fingers against your chin with an air of solemn finality as you stated, "I share my heart with you, Din."

From his spot on his knees facing you, Din all but fell forward, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pressed you down into the soft cocoon of blankets with his weight. "You precious... _mesh'la_... _stars_ , you mean _so_ _fucking_ _much_ to me." He gritted out, his voice almost pained while he framed your hips with his thighs. "So much, so much I don't know enough Basic for it. You are _fucking_ healing, _mirjahaal_ , you are rain, _pitat_ , you are soft, _pel_ , you are _fucking_ stunning, _kandosii'la_ , you a-are--you are _dral_ , _ner cabur_ , _ner haal_ , you are... _haar'chak_ , **_osi'kyr_** , I always lose my _words_." He growled in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. "My mouth can't even try to whisper what my heart screams. M'not used to talking so much." He admitted, sounding defeated.

"I hear you anyway." You assured him softly. Din raised his head, leveling that visor with your eyes. 

" _ How? _ " He asked desperately.

"I hear you when you speak with your hands. I hear you when you speak with your concern. I hear you...I h-hear you when you speak with your body." Your breath hitched and your eyes closed as he rolled that body against your own in one long, sensual grind. "I don't need you to talk if you can't. I hear you  _ just _ fine, I promise." You managed to finish, even with his deliciously-distracting form stretched languidly over you.

"Then," Din hesitated. His hand sought out the scar on your side yet again, fingers caressing the marked skin. "I…I love you." He mumbled.

"I know, Din." You smiled warmly up at him. "I love you too." He ducked his head against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide his face despite already wearing a helmet. "Don't be shy!"

"I'm  _ not _ shy, I-I'm…" 

"You're not used to this. It's new. That's okay." You cupped the back of his helmet. "I'll be here to help you figure it out. The kid  _ and _ I." 

"You are my  _ aliit _ , my clan. I'll...I'll keep you two safe, I promise.  _ K'oyacyi _ ." He choked out, his hand trembling when he drew the circle on your chest and rubbed his knuckles gently in the center. "My armor for you and the kid. My whole body.  _ Anything _ you need." 

You slipped your legs out from beneath his thighs and opened them a little wider, letting him relax down into the sheltered harbor of your embrace. "Shh," you soothed, running your palms up and down his tense back. "Everything is fine. All we need is  _ you _ . We're safe.  _ You're _ safe with me. You can rest, sweetheart."

Din sighed, digging his hands into the blankets beneath your back. "Safe." He slurred. "Can't lay on y' though. Too heavy...lemme'..." He clumsily grappled with your body,  _ somehow _ managing to roll the two of you over without accidentally braining you with his helmet. "Better." He grunted, threading his fingers through your hair and resting your head on his chest. "Should...put my suit back on."

"Five minutes." You bargained, stroking down the line of his visor. "Would you like me to sing for you?"

"...mmhm." He agreed through a yawn, his head drooping when he nodded. "Five...f-ive…"

You smiled as you listened to him struggle against sleep to try and talk to you, his breathing finally evening out after a few more minutes of incoherent mumbling. You pressed a careful kiss to his forehead and then snuggled down against his chest. " _ Stars fading, but I linger on dear...still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'til dawn dear, just saying this… _ " You half-whispered, your words petering out as you too succumbed to the allure of slumber.

The future was uncertain but, if only for this brief moment in time, the two of you found solace in the other's presence.

_ Stay safe, sweetheart. K'oyacyi, cyar'ika. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying! Stay kind, my friends, and stay safe. Oya manda, k'oyacyi!


End file.
